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MARRYING A MOUSTACHE; 



OR, 



91n SHuitofiiagra^p, 



BEING 



PASSAGES FROM A LIFE NOW PROGRESS- 
ING IN THE CITY OF BOSTON, 



AN INTEREST IN WHICH IS NOT EXCITED SIMPLY 

BECAUSE FOUNDED ON FACT, BUT THAT 

THE INCIDENTS THEREIN RELATED 

ARE THEMSELVES THE FACTS. 



BY 

Mrs. T. NARCISSE DOUTNEY. 



Kjd"VaA>v\&u, 



1 And though calamities have crossed thee ; 
And misery been heaped on thy head." 



SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY. 
x873- 






Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 

Harriet G. Storbr, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 






(To 

THE FRIENDS; 

WHO, IN THE SPIRIT OF HUMANITY AND KINDNESS, 
EXTENDED TO ME IN MY DARKEST HOUR 

MATERIAL AID; 

AND WHAT IS FAR MORE DELICATE AND RARE, 

HEARTFELT SYMPATHY; 

AND 

TO THE PUBLIC; 

WITH THE HOPE THAT THIS FEARFUL EXPOSE OF DISSIPATION, 
PORTRAYED IN THE PHASE OF DRINK, MAY ADD ITS MITE TOWARDS TH8 
ERECTION OF A BARRIER MIGHTY TO STAY THE TIDE OF 

INTEMPERANCE 

ROLLING OVER THE LAND ', AND DESTROYING IN ITS 
RESISTLESS COURSE THE FAIREST BULWARK, 

OUR YOUNG MEN, 

Ws Book, 

WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE AUTHOR, 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGK 

Introduction 7 

CHAPTER 

I. I AM BORN II 

II. I am a Baby 15 

III. I am a Child .18 

IV. My Girlhood 23 

V. The Circus 29 

VI. The Twice Eloped 39 

VII. I am a Wife 46 

VIII. A Presentiment ...... 51 

IX. I am a Widow 56 

X. My Evil Genius 63 

XI. From Good to Bad . . . . . .72 

XII. The Quiet Town of L .... 78 

XIII. The Fates 83 

XIV. La Maison de mauvaise Fame ... 89 
XV. St. Louis 99 

. XVI. "The Isabel" .104 

XVII. Anita 109 

XVIII. The Captain's Clerk 114 

XIX. The Grand Italian Opera . . . .118 

XX. L'Inconnu 123 

XXI. An Interview 131 



vi 



CONTENTS. 



XXII. Walter . 

XXIII. The Letter . 

XXIV. The Honeymoon . 
XXV. My Creed .... 

XXVI. Boston's Female Broker 
XXVII. Olla Podrida . 
XXVIII. Pandemonium 
XXIX. Inferno . . 
XXX. The Hegira . 
XXXI. The Grand Finale 
XXXII. Resurgam 

XXXIII. The Canal Street Pawn Shop 

XXXIV. Book Agents wanted . ■ 
XXXV. The "Hub" . 

XXXVI. The Reception . 
XXXVII. "Our Lord's Prayer" . 



«34 
137 
142 

H7 
151 
158 
168 
176 

185 
194 
199 
201 
213 
227 
233 
238 



INTRODUCTION. 



The first time I heard Anna Dickinson 
speak, she stated that she had known pov- 
erty. 

The time had been she was not able to 
buy a pair of gloves worth one shilling ; that 
she had worked hard, and yet was poor. 

She had decided it would be more profit- 
able to give a poor lecture than receive 
poor pay. 

I indorse her decision ; and write a poor 
book, because of the very same reason, — 
poor pay. 

Byron, by force of inspiration, wrote his 
" Bride of Abydos " in one night. 

I, by force of poverty, write my book in 
one week. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

He wrote for fame ! 
I write to pay my board. 
His motive was the more elevated ! 
Mine, the more urgent. 
Yes, — I am poor ; worse still, — I am in 
debt. I owe — 

" The butcher, the baker, 
The candlestick maker," — 

and see no way of canceling my indebted- 
ness. 

Everything I own in the world is at the 
pawnbroker's, — my watch, my brooch, my 
wedding-ring ; and I see no way of redeem- 
ing them. 

The spot on earth most sacred has passed 
into the hands of strangers. 

Others walk the halls, enjoy the grounds, 
bury their dead ; where my feet once trod, 
my eyes once feasted, my dead once reposed. 

Reduced thus from affluence to poverty ; 
alone, dwelling upon these things ; I deter- 
mine in some way to recover the lost. 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

Behold the reason why I write a book ! 

That it will be sensational, is not my 
fault ; my life has been one long sensation. 

That, "a la Trollope? it will have its 
white and its black marks, is not my fault ; 
some people are wjiite, others black. 

Unknown to friend or foe, I launch this 
manuscript upon the sea of literature ; alike 
indifferent, whether the frail bark outrides 
the storm, or founders in sight, so that the 
purchase money, borne by the retreating 
wave, be washed to my feet. 

Boston, 1872. 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



CHAPTER I. 



I AM BORN. 



" Queen of the sisters twelve, Imperial June ! " 
" And a babe was cradled in her bosom." 

All hail ! beautiful June ! month of roses ; 
and of skies, whose blue arch, bending, lov- 
ingly embraces the fragrant earth, as bride- 
groom his beloved bride. 

Beautiful June! in whose long, delicious 
days, summer arrives at the perfection of 
her charms; whose gentle airs, enameled 
fields, running streams ; revive the invalid, 
delight the child, while the hours of Na- 
ture's lover. 



12 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Upon the sixteenth day of thy month, O 
6eautiful June ! I was born ! 

About four miles from the seaport of 

B is the large, agricultural town of 

W . 

Its inhabitants are mostly tillers of the 
ground. Still, the quiet beauty of the place, 
together with its reputed healthfulness, in- 
duced a few men of means and education to 
locate themselves there, and engage in ama- 
teur farming. 

Earliest among these, of Puritan stock, 
both military and civic honors making his 
own name distinguished, came my maternal 
grandfather, Judge H . 

Although a gentleman, and companion 
of the learned, he soon ingratiated himself 
with his more lowly neighbors ; securing at 
the same time, their respect and sincere re- 
gard. So well, too, and profitably, he man- 
aged his lands, that by degrees his opinion 
became their law. 



/ AM BORN. 



13 



Away from the main road, upon rising 
ground, stood the' old-fashioned, family man- 
sion ; completely embosomed in roses, the 
place was familiarly known as " Rose Hill." 

Three daughters graced this pleasant 
home. The youngest, the fairest, met ; and 
— true to her romantic nature — loved a 
wild but generous-hearted seaman. Against 
the judgment of her father, she persisted in 
marrying the youthful Captain. 

If ever there was a love match, they 
made one. 

Though separation, incident to his pro- 
fession, and sorrow, were mingled in their 
cup ; neither — to the hour when the waters 
closed over the form of the idolized hus- 
band — had cause to regret their union. 

I was their first child. 

The preparation that heralded my advent, 
I have been told, was wonderful. Such em- 
broidery ! such laces ! such trimming ! such 
tucking ! and all the Liliputian trousseau, 



14 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the work of loving fingers and a loving 
heart; indulging, as each small garment 
was shaped, hopes and anticipations, as 
only the prospect of a first babe can in- 
spire. 

At length the long-expected time arrived. 

After hours of agony, which almost cost 
the young mother her life ; at the close of 
a quiet Sabbath, just as the sun's last rays 
glorified tree and flower, welcomed with 
smiles and prayers, upon the sixteenth day 
of thy month, O beautiful June ! I was 
born! 



CHAPTER II. 

I AM A BABY. 
" A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure." 

Most infants are lovely only in mother's 
and nurse's eyes. But it has come down, 
that — skipping over the flabby, lobster pe- 
riod — I presented to admiring friends the 
grateful spectacle of a rosy, live baby ; who, 
with large, wondering eyes, looked the world 

— into which it had such difficulty entering 

— full in the face. 

Could I have foreseen what she would 
have given in answer to that appealing look, 
I would resolutely, then and there, have shut 
mine eyes upon her forever. 

That was not to be. 

I was to see life ; and through the seeing, 
find my happiness, and — my misery. 



1 6 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

A chance neighbor, studying my youth- 
ful orbs, impressed with the idea that I 
should probably find a use for them, mean- 
ingly remarked : " Well ! she's got eyes, 
ain't she ? " 

My father, swelling with pride, assented ; 
adding, " The child seems six months old ! " 

A disputed mark upon my tiny fore-fin- 
ger, was settled by my mother declaring 
it to be strawberries ; and the subject still 
further clinched by my devouring, of that 
delicious fruit, nearly a cupful when three 
days old. 

This feat, together with my observant 
eyes, secured an infantile fame ; and many 
was the gossip who came to look at the 
cup, and gaze upon me. 

Of one heaven-given right I was de- 
prived. 

I never lay in maternal arms drawing 
sustenance from its natural source, my 
mother's fair breast. 



/ AM A BABY. I 7 

The suffering incident to giving me birth 
was too intense, and too prolonged, to allow 
of one other effort in my behalf. 

Nature avenged herself! 

I was the victim ! 

Still, I throve. To compensate, a bottle, 
emblem of my lost happiness, was placed in 
my puny grasp ; and immediately became 
my constant companion. 

Looking back, I am free to say, that, 
could I have anticipated, I should have 
adopted it on the spot as my future coat 

of ARMS. 

I think it would have been pleasant to 
have enjoyed evermore this purely physical 
state of existence ; holding on to the " em- 
blem " until full, then sinking off into the 
sleep of the innocent. 

But Fate had other — any better? — 
things in .store for me ; and Time, leagued 
with Fate, ignoring my private wishes, car 
ried me out of babyhood into childhood. 



CHAPTER III. 

I AM A CHILD. 

" For a child is in a new world, and learneth somewhat every 
moment." 

I am afraid Fear was a little too indis- 
criminately mingled with the motive power 
of my earlier years, to have allowed their 
being perfectly happy. 

I learned to walk through the base mo- 
tive! 

I took my first step in mortal fear ! 

At the house of a friend, answering some 
summons, a darkey thrust his sooty visage 
inside the door. 

Now I am speaking of ante-Lincoln days ; 
when, as yet, our colored brothers had not 
come up to our houses, our tables, our very 



I AM A CHILD. 



19 



bed-chambers, so to speak ; and the moment 
that vision of darkness met my childish eye, 
although I had literally never taken one 
step in my future career, I rose from the 
cricket whereon I had been planted, and 
made straight for the sheltering arms of my 
mother ; putting, in unquestioning faith, her 
love between me and, as I thought — the 
devil ! 

I had now found my feet. 

Being of the " female persuasion," I did 
not have to hunt for my tongue. My 
friends will testify to that. 

I was about to moralize — but hark ! an 
agonizing scream falls on my ear. Once 
heard, above all, once uttered, never for- 
gotten. 

Yes — her hour has come ! The woman 
next room, — childbirth pangs upon her, — 
obedient to the fiat u In sorrow shalt thou 
bring forth," pays the penalty of her sex 
and suffers more than words can tell ! 



20 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Everywhere ; these same shrieks, con- 
stantly ascending to the ear of the Father 
never closed to the cry of his children 
must, one would think, shut out the very 
music of heaven. 

The silence of death has succeeded. 

Is it that ? 

Happily, to the babe. 

I have a bachelor cousin (what does he 
know about it ?) who says, " Better if all 
thus died." 

I agree! 

Population might not get on so fast, but 
it would be a good thing for the little 
ones! 

Once here, however, and likely to remain, 
who can understand them ? even our own ? 

We bring them into the world ; feed 
them ; clothe them ; are always with them ; 
yet in too many instances know them, as 
we do the moon, by outside observation. 



I AM A CHILD. 2 I 

With the surface part of my being kindly 
cared for, I grew on ; not much pains be- 
ing taken to sound the depths, comprehend 
and train the hidden nature, which was my 
true self. 

To feed and to clothe, is that all ? 

In modern days, chances are against the 
child through this undue attention to the 
external. 

I do not complain ; but I say, if more 
thought had been given to the best devel- 
opment of a highly sensitive organization ; 
more labor bestowed upon the heart, less 
upon the head ; I, for one, should have 
come up a better woman. 

Clearly, I combined the elements of two 
distinct lives. 

The one, bright and joyous; mischief 
and prank filling the house with sunshine. 
The other, dreamy and sad ; influenced by 
emotions difficult to explain, but with which 
my playmates had no sympathy. 



22 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Never mind. I was full of vitality, and 
thoroughly enjoyed everything going, ex- 
cepting — dolls. 

Being a girl, I know I ought, but some- 
how I didn't. 

Imagination was not at fault. Mine, how- 
ever, would not take that direction. 

I had no pleasure in tugging round 
the senseless things ; making believe keep 
house ; and all the rest of the tiresome pro- 
gramme. 

I loved flowers. Already delighted in 
books. Adored music. A pity ! as tem- 
peraments peculiarly susceptible to sweet 
sounds, are equally so to sorrow. 

None had, thus far, come to me. None 
might. 

Beloved by parents, petted by friends, I 
unconsciously slipped from happy child- 
hood into sweet, mysterious girlhood. 



CHAPTER IV. 

MY GIRLHOOD. 

" Beauty, is modesty and grace in fair retiring girlhood." 

"Induce not precocity of intellect, for so shouldst thou nourish 
vanity." 

The other day I saw a picture, very beau- 
tiful in its whole conception. 

Two figures, mother and daughter, are 
upon an eminence. 

Wearily, the mother is looking backward ; 
over the long, winding path her feet have 
trodden to reach this spot. 

Eagerly, the daughter is looking forward 
into the dim distance ; trying to locate the 
way her feet shall take. 

I place myself beside the mother. 

My past returns. 

Its memories of youthful aspirations, so 



24 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



crushed; youthful plans, so blighted; youth 
ful friendships, so dead ; that I only feel 
sorrow in contemplating this ardent, high- 
spirited maiden, knowing the certain disap- 
pointment to which she goes. 

Only the phlegmatic really enjoy ! 

Once I met a person who boldly asserted 
the same ; and who, if launched again upon 
life, would beg to leave behind — her heart ! 

I was no longer alone. 

A fair-haired, blue-eyed girl, rivaled me 
in my mother's love. I do not wonder. So 
sweet-tempered, so thoughtful was the dear 
child ; a willing help in all the various do- 
mestic cares, which, to my shame, I inva- 
riably shirked. 

But I do not think my father ever gave to 
his second, the blind affection he lavished 
upon his wayward first-born. 

" Whom the gods love die young." 

Endeared to all within her sweet influ- 



MY GIRLHOOD. 



25 



ence, scarcely had fifteen brief summers 
passed, than, leaving us forever to mourn 
her loss, my sister died ! 

And one other ; to his latest hour, will 
bear in his " heart of hearts " the memory 
of a dearly loved, and early lost ! 

My grandfather dead, my parents moved 
to a large manufacturing place; and my 
mother's eldest sister, having no daughters 
of her own, claimed me for an unlimited 
time. 

If she had put me right into her kitchen, 
and taught me how to " bake and to brew," 
I think a good deal of troublesome romance 
would have gone off in the smoke incident 
to that useful pastime. 

Through mistaken kindness this was not 
done ; and over the intervening years, I sol- 
emnly declare that kindness to have been 
the wreck upon which I went down. 

Instead of the frying-pan, Algebra ! 



26 AN A UTOBIOGRA PHY. 

What need has a girl of Algebra ? She 
spends her money too fast to stop and 
reckon it. 

Instead of the pudding-bag, French ! 

Was she ambitious to hear me scold my 
future household in that voluble tongue ? 

Parents! whatever else you fail to do, 
learn, betimes, your female offspring to 
cook. 

We may have our eating-saloons, our fash- 
ionable restaurants, our imported " Blot's ; " 
but one old style, well-prepared dinner, out- 
weighs them all ! 

Meanwhile I was put through a course 
of studies that would have floored any girl, 
whose mental activity had not been quick- 
ened, as mine. 

I enjoyed it. 

Nature, Art, the Sciences, lay open be- 
fore me. 

Text-books of a high order were at hand. 

My education, intellectually, was not neg- 
lected. 



MY GIRLHOOD. 27 

There is no good, however, without its at- 
tendant evil. Here, in this excellent family 
my very worst characteristic — pride — was 
secretly fostered ; and in its rapid growth, 
overshadowed many a better quality. 

Others looked upon me as something a 
little uncommon, and I certainly regarded 
myself in that light. 

But for one thing, Eternity will prove me 
indebted to this pious woman. 

My religious faith became so rooted and 
grounded, that no after shock of temptation 
or sin could drift me from my Scriptural 
mooring. 

" Among the faithless, faithful she," 

and had her Bible told her the sun did not 
shine, with her eyes in her head, she would 
have ignored his rays. 

So would I ! 

From this time a new element was in- 
fused into my composition. 

Impulsively giving up other pursuits, I 



28 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

sought to fathom its mysteries ; and devot- 
ing all my energies to the one study of the 
revealed Word, I was led on, fascinated by 
the glorious truths, until Religion became 
my one idea. 

My Aunt in her daily life was an epitome, 
a living example of her faith. 

I then thought the same divine afflatus 
had taken possession of my heart. 

Possibly it had ; and after wanderings 
were over the smouldering spark that, by 
and by, should flame up, repurifying every 
emotion. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CIRCUS. 

" The rude hall rocks — they come, they come, 
The din of voices shakes the dome." 

"And hurry, hurry, off they rode 
As fast as fast might be." 

Pleasure again claimed me. Home to 
D . 

The town is all agog! 

Upon straggling fences and unused build- 
ings, in the Market Square, and at the 
Post-office, are enormous hand-bills, setting 
forth that next Wednesday morning a Cir- 
cus Troupe will make their entrance. The 
whole company, in gorgeous costume ; splen- 
did horses, with rich trappings ; band play- 
ing, banners flying. " Afternoon perform- 



30 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ance to commence at two o'clock, door 
open at one. Evening performance to com- 
mehce at seven o'clock, door open at six. 
Admittance twenty-five cents. Children, 
accompanied by parents, half price." 

It is with the afternoon performance I 
have to do. 

I am quite young ; precisely at that age 
girls are most desirous to look well. 

I have a beau ; sort of half and half; 
keeps me on the anxious seat all the time 
with his indecision, whether to stick by me, 
or .go with Lucy Dean ! 

I feel that the matter of an extra ribbon 
would decide him. 

It is a settled thing. My mother will 
not give me money to throw away upon 
what she calls " wicked amusements." 

Now I have had my mind all summer in- 
terested in a certain blue sash, and have 
saved up a quarter of a dollar towards buy- 
ing the same. 



THE CIRCUS. 31 

If my irresolute friend invites me, 

" Everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high ; " 

but if he should choose that dark-eyed 
miss, good-by to the sash, for I am going 
Wednesday afternoon to see that Show. 

For once, the weather deserved credit 
It was propitious. 

" Nor too hot, nor too cold," 

and all the forenoon streams of vehicles — 
from the stylish carriage, that drove directly 
to the hotel and deposited its load in care 
of the obsequious landlord ; to the country 
wagon ; that brought wife, children, lunch, 
and hay for Dobbin to munch, while his 
companions within were feasting upon the 
unwonted pageant, — poured through the 
streets. 

Shall I ever forget that day ? 

The tent pitched on the open common, 
so white against the clear blue sky, while 
from its centre floated the Flag we have all 



32 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



learned since to love. The air so pure. 
The grass so green. The people in their 
best clothes. The hurrying hither and 
thither to accost a friend, or secure a good 
position. Jokes on every side. The tramp- 
ling of horses ; over all the lively music, 
together produced a flutter of excitement 
that told pleasantly upon the nerves, and 
evoked expressions of good feeling from 
the most reserved. 

The exhibition was advertised at two 
o'clock. By one every seat was taken ; and 
all the space between the pit and the more 
elevated boards, filled with a jostling crowd. 

I was among the first on the ground, and 
took my place about half way up ; neither 
so low, but I could see the feet of the per- 
formers — neither so high, but I was out 
reach of sun, wind, or flapping canvas. 

Now began the fun ! 

Loafing men, inside, struggling for a 
chance. 



THE CIRCUS. 



33 



Loafing boys, outside, eager to get in, 
but just short of the magic sum wherewith 
to effect an entrance. 

The more daring tried to force their way 
under the tent. But no sooner were head 
and shoulders well in, than an unexpected 
jerk of the leg, at the hand of a watchful 
" attache," twitched the poor sinner out. 

Pent between two monstrous women — 
one had a baby in her lap — I looked here 
and there to discover my acquaintance. 

Yes — yonder was my beau, the vacilla- 
ting! over whom I had cried half the 
night — flirting and making love to that 
miserable Lucy Dean. 

How homely the girl is ! 

What can William Watson see to fancy 
in her ? and, am I to believe my eyes ! tied 
round the awkward creature's waist is my 
blue sash ! 

I could tell it among a hundred. I knew 
my fate hung on that I 

3 



34 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Pride crushed back my tears ; and just 
then, too, with flourish of trumpets, came 
flying through the narrow alley " The 
Troupe," to see which I had sacrificed so 
much. 

Was there ever anything so magnificent ? 

How rich they must be ! Crimson velvet 
dresses, trimmed with gold. 

And such horses ! even their saddles all 
over gold ! 

Where did so much come from ? I know. 
New York. 

But see them prance! — in and out — in 
and out! just like a dance. Why!, it is a 
dance. The band is playing a waltz. 

How glad I am I came ! Who cares for 
Bill Watson, Luce Dean, or the old sash 
either ? 

Good gracious ! What is that fellow do- 
ing ? — piling glass bottles to stand upon ? 
so high too ! is he stark mad ? Suppose 
the underneath one should happen to break ! 



THE CIRCUS. 35 

He has reached the top, and, as the crowd 
applauds, stretches out his arms ! 

I shall faint dead away — I know I shall ! 

Now isn't that boy a beauty ? The man 
with him must be his father — and they are 
going to ride one horse. How carefully he 
holds on to the little chap that he may not 
fall — and kisses him, two or three* times. 

What ! — the boy has sprung to his feet 

— is upon his fathers hand — upon his 
father's shoulder — upon his father's head 

— with both arms and one leg in the air — 
the horse all the time going round the ring 
fast as ever he can gallop ! 

I hold my breath ! 

I know that tune the band is playing, 

" Pretty, pretty Polly Hopkins," 

and the men are laying down a piece of 
carpet. 

Somebody is going to dance ! 

O! isn't that the handsomest girl that 



36 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ever was born? I guess Luce Dean will 
feel worked up now ! her dress is awful 
short, though ! that's the way they wear them 
in New York ; but her feet are just as nice 
as they can be — and such lovely bronze 
slippers ! her white lace overskirt, caught 
up on the left side, with a pink rose — pink 
sash (I am glad- 1 didn't buy that blue thing), 
and pink buds in her hair. 

Her partner ! isn't he sweet ? green satin 
trousers, white silk stockings, black shiny 
pumps, and a little straw hat on one side, 
with narrow green streamers. 

Now they begin. See their steps ! 

" Pretty, pretty Polly Hopkins, 
How do you do ? how do you do ? " 

She flies from him ! He cannot overtake 
her ! She taps him on the shoulder, and 
before he can turn, she's gone ! 

" Pretty, pretty Polly Hopkins ! " 

What a dance you are leading that en- 
amored swain ! 



THE CIRCUS. 37 

What's that? the growl of a lion ? They 
don't have lions at a circus. It can't be 
thunder ! When did the shower come up ? 
How it rains ! The spectators are leaving. 
I hope Luce Dean's sash will get wring- 
ing wet, and all the color run out, the minx ! 

O, how it lightens! If I was only at 
home ! Mother said it was wrong to come. 
I know I shall be struck. Dear me! dear 
me ! 

With the vision of 

" Pretty, pretty Polly Hopkins ! M 

before my eyes — and, mingling with the 
thunder, the refrain, 

" None the better, Tommy Tompkins," 

in my ears — I rush for the door. 

The grand times I had in that dear old 
village ! 

If these pages chance to meet the eye of 
S. M., K. H., R. W., recall what dances ! 



38 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

made memorable by the wonderfully exe- 
cuted " Turkey Step " of W. J., and the ap- 
proving slap of G. I. I. upon his fat legs, 
after his well-cut " Pigeon's Wing." 

What sleigh-rides in winter ! what beach 
rides in summer ! 

Life now was gala ! 

It will not be supposed I could take all 
these rides with good-looking young men — 
enjoy all these dances with well-dressed 
beaux, : — and come off heart whole ! 

O, no ! many was the skirmish I had with 
the little " god of love ; " and one of his 
well-aimed thrusts, took six weeks to heal ! 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE TWICE ELOPED. 

"And now is seen the passion for utility, when all things are 
accounted by their price." 

"And she has met with Glenlyon, 
Who has stolen her away." 

Never attempt to dodge your destiny ; 
as well float up current. You cannot do it. 

About this time I ran away. As I am ro- 
mantic, I will express myself differently. / 
eloped. Not in company with a lover, but 
— with myself! 

Two motives induced me. I wanted to 
see the city — and my dear father's death 
leaving us in straitened circumstances — I 
wanted to " turn an honest penny." 

Why I did not take to school-teaching 



40 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

honorable and remunerative, I am unable 
to tell. 

Hiding my light, as it were, under a 
bushel ; unknown to my friends, I entered 
a leading store as saleswoman. 

My world was immediately turned upside 
down ! 

My mother's blue blood boiled in her 
veins ! 

Her twin sister's son, from the hour I 
thus ignobly lowered the aristocratic banner 
of our house, pitiless and unforgiving, walks 
the streets of Boston, vouchsafing to me no 
cousinly glance ! 

Meantime I made a capital clerk. 

Algebra told ! and many a customer rued 
the day I. had applied myself so closely to 
its calculations. 

I discovered a business talent. 

No greater change, however, could possi- 
bly have been made in any individual life. 
Heretofore, mistress of my own time, habits 



THE TWICE ELOPED. 4 1 

of a born lady, proclivities decidedly liter- 
ary. Now, busily employed all day, I had 
no opportunity to exercise my tastes or en- 
joy my books. 

But I could study human nature ; and, 
believe me, there is a good deal of it round ! 

Better not, ladies ! go into a store with 
heads so high you can scarcely see the per- 
son who serves you. Better not, ladies! 
address her as a lower order of creation; 
for the girl who ties up your purchase, may 
be, in birth and education, immeasurably 
your superior. 

There are those who understand, and, to 
their honor, act in accordance ; that in the 
inexplicable confusion of life, some are jos- 
tled out of their sphere. 

Fortunately, for my peace of mind, and 
lean purse, I did not care for dress ; rather 
held to the Chinese notion, — one thing for- 
ever ! Still, there were days when I liked 
to put on all my finery, and mildly enjoy 
the extra notice. 



42 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



Take it all in all, this was about the hap- 
piest period of my life. 

Well may I think so ! 

As then, my Destiny fulfilled her mission, 
and leading me to my supremest happiness ; 
introduced me to the gifted son of — a 
Methodist preacher. 

From that time existence took on a 
deeper meaning. 

My whole being recognized, and went 
out to its new master — Love — and, wel- 
comed to its resting-place, returned no 
more ; but dwelt forever there, in sweetest 
peace. 

There are three things that interest the 
public. Birth ; Marriage ; Death. 

They had got well over my birth; and 
while waiting for my death, took in hand 
my marriage. 

Obscurity availed nothing. Sensation 
was my twin sister. 



THE TWICE ELOPED. 43 

The engagement of the only daughter of 

Captain E to a humble minister's son, 

was, for the time being, among my acquaint- 
ances, the topic. 

Methodists, twenty years ago, were not 
what they are to-day, in either education or 
popularity. 

We will leave the Book of Doom to de- 
cide whether, upon its unprejudiced pages, 
as many were not registered favorably then, 
as now ! 

Meanwhile, there was a strong counter 
pressure brought to bear upon the contem- 
plated match by those interested in break- 
ing it off- Foremost among whom was a 
sheep-faced, inanimate, rival suitor. 

If there had been anything wanting to 
decide the question, this foolish interference 
would have supplied the link. 

Serenely keeping our own counsel, we, 
the principal faction concerned, accepted 
one " Thanksgiving " an invitation to dine 



44 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

out. I well remember the dinner. It 
really was capital ! 

But it is with heartfelt sadness I record, 
that one, to whose kindness then, and often 
after, I was indebted ; leaving her earthly 
friends in sorrow to mourn, now feeds upon 
the heavenly manna. 

Leaving, my companion announced to our 
surprised hosts, that ere all met again we 
" twain should be one flesh ; " and hurrying 
to the depot — took the train for Provi- 
dence, R. I., in those days the " Gretna 
Green " of persecuted lovers. 

Evidently I was getting my hand in — 
to Elopements ! 

Arriving there, an unforeseen obstacle 
presented itself. It was necessary to be 
"cried;" or, even in that accommodating 
city, the marriage would not be legal. 

" Great oaks from little acorns spring." 

That year politics ran high — and even 



THE TWICE ELOPED. 



45 



the good cheer of a regular holiday, could 
not restrain the zeal of a few souls ardent 
in the cause. 

An excited knot, sufficient in number 
to form a quorum, was hunted up ; and 
much to their amusement, the Town Clerk 
published in their ears the " bans of wed- 
lock," between " contracting parties, Paul 
Pennington and Elizabeth M. Weymouth, 
both of Boston, Massachusetts." 

The delay over, a willing clergyman 
ratified the whole thing — not forgetting in 
the haste to rejoin his feasting family, to 
dwell at some length upon the word o-b-e-y. 

I think I never realized the comprehen- 
sive meaning of those four letters, until 
elaborated by his tongue. 

With a generous fee in his hand, he went 
back to the waiting group ; and in fluttering 
happiness, / exchanged my maiden freedom 
for the soft restraint of a blushing bride ! 



CHAPTER VII. 

I AM A WIFE. 
" And a well-assorted marriage hath not many cares." 

There never was a rich Methodist min- 
ister ! 

If lucky enough to receive sufficient sal- 
ary to keep soul and body together; and 
fifty cents over for a rainy day ; he will in- 
evitably give away the fifty cents. 

Rejoicing in a father whose "treasures 
were laid up in heaven," my husband had 
his own way to make in the world. 

I at once determined to aid him in the 
laudable undertaking. 

I deserve the more credit, as it was done 
before " strong minded " women came tum- 
bling into the arena; upsetting every 



/ AM A WIFE. 47 

blessed man ; and seizing, with all else they 
can lay hands on, their very breeches, so to 
speak, as trophies of victory ! 

It was some years before the war, too. 

Times then, and the mode of doing busi 
ness, were quite different. The high pres- 
sure system was not so much the style. A 
young man of industry and integrity had an 
almost certain prospect of success. His 
word entered into the account, and if hon- 
orably redeemed, was additional capital. 

Now, arrangements written in blood are 
hardly considered binding. 

Then, Honesty was a power. 

Now, ignored as " behind the times," she 
hides her diminished head ; and, crestfallen, 
acknowledges u she don t pay ! " 

Then, the aspirant was willing to wait, 
and receive gifts from Fortune as he earned 
them. Now, the poor Jade is so " battered 
and bruised," that — fleeing for her life — 
she scatters indiscriminately her treasures, 



48 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and Young America secures the largest 
share ! 

" A man is praised as he does well for 
himself." 

1872 indorses the days of Job ! 

We took a small store. With just one 
hundred and fifty dollars, started in busi- 
ness. . 

We were young, healthy, and had our 
wits about us. 

Soon people began to find, indeed it be- 
came rather the fashion, to patronize us ; 
and there is not a person living who ever 

had dealings with Mr. P , but will bear 

witness, " his word was as good as a bond." 

As for myself — well ! I was more consci- 
entious then, than I am now. 

One thing was sure. We devoted our 
whole time to business. An early hour in 
the morning — a late hour at night — found 
us still employed. 

I gave up all my acquaintance ; or, what 



1 AM A w WIFE 



49 



amounted to the same thing, they all gave 
up me ; and, obedient to my nature, took 
hold in earnest of the thing in hand, only 
too happy in the constant companionship of 
my husband. 

All the outside time we could possibly 
command was devoted to reading, study, 
and mutual improvement. None given to 
pleasure. 

Influenced by his sedate and consistent 
life, I again became interested in religion. 
This second conviction leading me through 
a heart-rending experience, in which " Satan 
was determined to sift me as wheat." To 
his discomfiture, however, I united with the 
Church ; of which to-day I am its most un- 
worthy member. 

Meanwhile in trade, there were the usual 
ups and downs; until the great financial 
crisis swept over the land. 

Many large houses were completely up- 
rooted. In our snug little quarters we just 

4 



50 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

made out to weather the gale; but it took 
many a weary month to repair damages. 

Time passed on. Increased success was 
again ours ; and, looked upon as " rising," 
we considered ourselves — established. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

A PRESENTIMENT. 

" The idol of thy heart is, as thou, a probationary sojourner on 
earth." 

It now became evident that one of the 
partners must give up — and taking, I think, 
the respect and good wishes of our custom- 
ers, I bade adieu to public, and entered upon 
private life. 

Behold me ! in a pleasant home, a few 
miles from the city, invested with the new 
dignity of housekeeper; the happy mother 
of a growing family. 

My husband, also, made a change. 

In a larger building; extending his opera- 
tions ; with tact and shrewdness, slowly but 
surely, he laid the foundation of a more than 
competence. 



52 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Everything prospered. His unyielding 
principle had got him an excellent name. 
Old firms were pleased to acknowledge the 
successful, self-made young merchant. 

In both business and social relations he 
was favored. 

As I have said, he was religious. Up to 
this time he had worshipped with his Con- 
gregational brethren. But now, true to the 
faith of his fathers, he formed an embryo 
society — the increasing membership of 
which — still hold him in grateful memory. 

We had lived in M about ten years; 

in as perfect a state of happiness as can 
well fall to the lot of mortals. 

We owned our house. Its appointments 
were comfortable, even elegant. My tastes 
were all gratified. My wants all met — and 
supposing this state of thing would always 
continue — I lived on. 

At the close of this last year, however ; 
indeed, all during the month of Decern 



A PRESENTIMENT. 53 

ber, I was a prey to the most distressing 
but persistent fancies. 

A great Shadow had fallen upon me ! 

I became conscious some terrible misfor- 
tune was impending. 

So entirely did this belief take posses- 
sion of my mind, that I passed the greater 
part of each day in tears ; often apologiz- 
ing to friends for the unaccountable emo- 
tion, which I could neither explain, nor ban- 
ish. 

It seemed absolutely certain that some- 
thing awful would occur before the old year 
died out ; and when the new year, bright 
and glorious, came in ; my husband, my 
children well; the house standing firm on 
its foundation ; words could not express my 
joy. 

But, I was not alone in my Presentiment ! 

The first day of January, 18 — , fell on 
Sunday. 

A reverend gentleman, who was taking 



54 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

tea with us, upon moving from the table 
requested permission to kneel. 

Thus he prayed — 

" We stand upon the threshold of an- 
other year. Thanks be to our heavenly 
Father, all is well. Soon, we may be called 
to part — child with its parent — parent 
with its child. Wife with her husband " — ■ 

Suddenly he stopped ; with the sensation 
of a blow upon his head ; words failed — ■ 
he could go no farther. 

Monday morning dawned. Its peaceful 
hours went on. 

Punctually returning in the six o'clock 
train, the dear, well-known step in the hall 
fell upon my ear. 

The events of the day discussed; the 
pleasant evening meal finished ; the children 

— a father's kiss warm upon their rosy lips 

— fast asleep ; my husband commenced 
reading aloud to me. 

All at once, putting his hand to his head, 



A PRESENTIMENT. 



55 



he exclaimed, " O ! this rush of blood ! ' 
and giving no sign, fell dead at my feet. 

Friends rushed in I Medical aid was 
summoned 1 

It was of no avail. 

The respected business man — the adored 
husband — the beloved father — the faith- 
ful church member ; leaving business, wife, 
children, and church — had gone to his God ! 

Would I could here stop ; lay down my 
pen ; close mine eyes ; and join the de- 
parted ! 

But no ! Living, I am a widow ! 



CHAPTER IX. 

I AM A WIDOW. 

" And I said this in sorrow ; but pity cannot reach it." 
" All things being are in mystery." 

At a comparatively early age — I was 
eleven years younger than I am now — I 
lost my husband. 

I mourned him with my whole soul. 

The world appeared dark ; and there was 
no brightness to relieve my sombre sky. 

To do as he would approve became my 
chief desire. 

Naturally, my first efforts were directed 
towards the struggling, religious society he 
had left. 

Mr. P was a Methodist from choice. 

I, because of the love I bore him. 



I AM A WIDOW 



57 



A witty minister of the " standing or- 
der " used to say, " that as fast as I was 
twisted into a Methodist at one end, I un- 
raveled as a Congregationalist at the 
other!" 

Be that as it may — I am confident that 
had Paul Pennington hailed as a god, the 
Sun ; rather than have been separated from 
him, I should, a devout worshipper of the 
same luminary, have knelt by his side. 

" Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, 
I, at any god's, for thine ! " 

Happily for my future, he had welcomed 
the True Light, and his heart was illumined 
by divine rays. 

Seven is considered the ruling number. 

Not so by me ! 

Three, comprise the mystic cycle of my 
fate. 

I have passed through three distinct 
phases of life ! 

I have had three special calls to a relig- 
ious life ! 



58 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I have suffered three marked punish- 
ments for not conforming to that life ! 

And I have had three — separate visions ! 

Now I am not a Spiritualist. I have no 
sympathy with this wonder of the nine- 
teenth century. But as regards these, thus 
evidenced by my senses, the last trump it- 
self will not shake my faith. 

One — early in life — when, alone in my 
chamber ; torn asunder with desire to throw 
myself into the arms of the Saviour; hin- 
dered by frightful unbelief from so doing ; I 
saw, with my own eyes — a hand — ex- 
tended to help me upwards. 

One — later in life — when, again alone ; 
striving to break the iron band of worldli- 
ness that held me in its riveted embrace ; I 
heard, with my own ears — a voice — ear- 
nestly asking me " to give up seeking re- 
ligion ! " 

One — latest — when, in a crowded con- 
ference meeting; I saw, with my own fa- 



I AM A WIDOW. 



59 



vored sight — my husband — standing, 
white-robed, with the angels ; joining in the 
song of praise then going up to heaven 
from his Christian brethren, assembled in 
evening worship. 

But we are all human beings ; and though 
"grief may endure for a night, joy cometh 
in the morning." 

With time, the " great consoler," my feel- 
ings were somewhat modified ; and assumed 
a more healthy tone. 

I was still young, tolerably good-looking, 
and at this late day developed a wonderful 
power " to attract." . 

I do not think I had ever before realized 
my capacity in that line. My nature had 
been too concentrated ; in turn, too absorb- 
ingly interested in one thing. 

To make the most of available " points," 
it is necessary to generalize, to diffuse. 

If that were the condition, clearly I was 
on the high-road to success ! 



60 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Going over soul and body to the other 
extreme, I generalized ; until the whole 
brotherhood of mankind was embraced in 
my far-reaching regard. 

I diffused ; until there was nothing left to 
diffuse. 

Heart, house, and purse were thrown wide 
open, and friends trooped around. 

The caution of the elder Weller to his 
son " Samivel " was thrown to the wind. 

A young widow at the head of an estab- 
lishment, is a mighty taking thing. 

People regarded me now with favor, who 
allowed my " shop girl " era to slip from 
their memory. Yet I was not nearly as 
deserving their esteem, prodigally scatter- 
ing, as when carefully gathering. So goes 
the world ! 

" Revenons a nos moutons" Just here 
comes in the innocent art of cooking. 

If, three times a day, I had been obliged 
to prepare food for my household ; for lack 



/ AM A WIDOW. 6l 

of time, the quicksands into which my wan- 
dering feet were drawn, would never have 
been explored. 

Our family physician " hit the nail on the 
head " when he wished " I had not a cent 
in the world, and six children to clothe and 
feed." I shrank with horror from the bare 
idea of what would have proved an Evan- 
gel. 

He well understood two things ; my or- 
ganization, and the importance of necessi- 
tated employment. 

The homely lines — 

" Satan finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do," — 

are very significant. To everybody outside 
an " oyster," work was the one blessing 
given when driven out of Paradise. 

Unoccupied time is a fearful engine of 
evil. 

Hopkins' hell — paved with the skulls of 
infants ! Hades — peopled with good reso- 



62 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



lutions ! are a " bagatelle? alongside the 
thronging multitude sent to the " dark Plu- 
tonian shore," as punishment for deeds com 
mitted through idleness ! 

Upon how many tombstones might be 
truthfully engraved — 

" Gone to the Devil ; because of — too much 
leisure ! " 



CHAPTER X. 

MY EVIL GENIUS. 
M But if thou nourish in thy heart the reveries of passion." 

I had always the sympathy of the little 
" society." 

My home became, as it were, a grand 
rendezvous for the Methodists. Social gath- 
erings, class and committee meetings, suc- 
ceeded each other. 

I heartily entered into the spirit of them 
all ; and to this day recall them with pleas- 
ure. 

But no weather stayed the tide. I be- 
came alarmed for the well-being of my 
Brussels carpets ; and in a happy moment 
conceived the idea of confining the " stew- 
ards " to an old rug. 



6 4 



AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 



I see them before me ! planted in a row ; 
full of finance ; yet careful, in their greatest 
excitement, never to allow one foot to go 
over the -prescribed limit. 

And the sympathy, too, of one dear old 
lady ; for whom I reserved " a little cham- 
ber on the wall," sacred to her own use; 
who, catching the falling mantle of my 
sainted aunt, bore me up with her prayers ; 
and — I do not doubt — opened for me a 
good account with the court of heaven ! 

I had failed in getting my husband's life 
insurance. 

Not liking the company in which for a 
number of years he had been insured, he 
proposed to change. The papers were 
made out, awaiting the doctor's signature. 
Pending this, Paul died ; and having sig- 
nified his intention to the old company — 
neither new nor old felt obliged to put out 
their money. 

Sorry for my loss, a person conversant 
with the circumstances called to condole. 



MY EVIL GENIUS. 65 

Was it the dead, come back to explain ? 

A faintness as of death came over me; 
but recovering, I entered into conversation. 
I found him educated, well-bred, a gentle- 
man in every sense of the word. 

An external resemblance so striking, 
could but argue similarity in character. 

This fact immediately arrested my atten- 
tion and interested my feelings. 

Could it have been otherwise ? 

Impulsiveness in youth, is often reckless- 
ness in maturer years. I am not conscious 
of ever having considered an act in connec- 
tion with its result. 

I ought on the spot to have called in 
Fancy and shut down the gates. I did not 
do it ; and getting the upper hand — she 
took me rough-shod 

" O'er many a brier, and many a brake," — 

until with bleeding feet, stripped, peeled, 
and torn, she has set me down on a barren 
coast. 

5 



66 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

But I anticipate ! 

My new friend was religious. This made 
him the more engaging — as contradictorily 
— however much I may have followed the 
Evil, I am powerfully attracted towards the 
Good. 

His sympathetic nature called forth mine. 
In telling him my troubles, they disap- 
peared. In asking his counsel, I again had 
a guide. In receiving his instructions, I 
learned very highly to regard. 

All this time I was aware he was mar- 
ried ; but having no idea of entering that 
state myself, the knowledge did not disturb 
me. 

All I asked was sympathy ; friendship ; 
these satisfied. 

How arrive at these without companion- 
ship ? 

There was where regret came in heavy 
upon my soul ; and for every hour I de- 
tained him from her who had a better right 



MY EVIL GENIUS. 6 J 

to his society, I have endured months of 
torture. 

" The mills of the gods grind slowly, 
But they grind exceeding small," — 

and whoever goes as grist to their mill, is 
smothered in his own dust ! 

Everybody needs a change ; though it 
may be from good to bad. It is an unalter- 
able law of our being. Not often under- 
stood; seldom acted upon. 

If I had now taken a short journey — 
thereby forcing my feelings into a different 
channel — the aim would have been accom- 
plished ; and I should gladly have come 
back to my pleasant home. 

Just then, too, my brother was continu- 
ally bringing me into difficulties. 

When himself, a better - hearted man 
never lived; so kind — so useful — that I 
really felt I could not keep house without 
him ; but, like the cow that gave a good 
pail of milk, then upset it; the poor fellow, 
in his cups, undid all. 



68 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

He borrowed money of my friends who 
expected me, in honor, to pay it. 

When sober he seldom talked ; when in 
liquor he was all talk — and in his jeal- 
ous, suspicious moods — - got me into more 
scrapes than I could well manage. 

The house filled with company was his 
opportunity. 

I well recollect upon the occasion of a 
party, missing certain guests ; and finding 
them in a remote room, all the preserves in 
the pantry before them, " cheek by jowl " 
with James, with one spoon regaling them- 
selves ! 

He often, too, attempted to frighten, and 
in that way get the best of me. 

Once, however, I had him at a disadvan- 
tage. He was persevering; if he com- 
menced a thing, would be sure to finish. 
I had a row of poplars I wished cut down, 
and set him to the job. All through those 
hot summer days he chopped and sawed 



MY EVIL GENIUS. 69 

sawed and chopped, bored and salted, until 
every tree was " done for " beyond a hope 
of resurrection ! 

Would, as then, my only brother could 
be with me now ! 

Altogether I began to grow uneasy, dis* 
satisfied, and tired of everything about me. 

Widows of four years' standing will sym- 
pathize with me in this. It is uncomfort- 
able to be constantly reminded of lost hap- 
piness. 

So, without duly considering the subject, 
I sent for an auctioneer — and sold out ! 

My house being well furnished, drew a 
crowd; and seldom had the handsome 
" Knight of the Hammer " as good an op- 
portunity to display his peculiar eloquence. 

It was all over ; my life at M wound 

up — and I again a resident of Boston. 

In this connection there occurred a sin- 
gular thing. 



7<D AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

The practical .is uninteresting. I am 
eminently practical. I am eminently unin- 
teresting ; but this — 

One Saturday night, my small family in 
bed and wrapt in slumber ; I, alone up and 
wakeful, went into the dining-room and 
seated myself at a large, black-walnut, ex- 
tension-table. 

With paper before me, pencil in hand, I 
was summing the probable proceeds of the 
sale. 

The utmost stillness prevailed. 

Suddenly, within one inch of the paper, 
there was a heavy, resounding blow ; as 
though some strong, muscular hand had 
come down flat on the palm, with all its 
force. 

The " masterly " retreat at Bull Run was 
a circumstance to my exit from that room ; 
ascent of those stairs ; bolt into my moth- 
er's chamber. 

I declare, my blood curdles even now as 
I think of it ! 



MY EVIL GENIUS. J I 

I have stated the fact. I leave wiser 
heads to account for it. 

Only — as the it, invisible, had shaken 
my calculations ; I wish the it, visible, had 
so shaken my bones ; that, stiff and sore, 
flat on my back, unable to move ; per ne- 
cessity, taking time to determine its expedi- 
ency ; I had been saved the first fatal step 
of breaking up, through the agency of that 
good-looking auctioneer, my peaceful, com- 
fortable home ! 



CHAPTER XL 

FROM GOOD TO BAD. 
" Refresh thy jaded limbs, return with vigor to the strife." 

For a long time I had not boarded ; and 
I thought being summoned to my meals, 
ushered to my seat, served with rich viands, 
would be decidedly " the thing." 

Hotels are pleasant — but my diffusive 
period had quite put it out of my power to 
indulge in that luxury. 

Imagination tided me into a regular 
boarding-house ; second or third rate ; I 
never could make up my mind how to class 
it. 

For a while, novelty served me a good 
turn. Very slowly the curtain rose, reveal- 
ing " behind the scenes." " En passant" if 



FROM GOOD TO BAD. 73 

it is your fate to board, never go near the 
kitchen ; if your reason don't fail, your ap 
petite will ! 

Presently I began to be considered an 
old boarder. Attentions flagged. Treated 
coldly at table, if not on hand when rung 
down. Savory morsels all reserved for 
newer comers. Innuendoes respecting the 
quantity of food consumed by some folks, 
and statements as to its price. 

I became a perfect "price current." 
Could quote all the fluctuations of " Faneuil 
Hall Market ;" tell to a fraction the cost of 
butter — and rise in sugar ; when lard was 
" steady " — and ashes " quiet." 

The romance of boarding was at an end. 

Observing how profitably this woman 
pulled the ropes; determined she should 
pull no more at. my expense; and with an 
eye to the main chance, I suddenly " bought 
out " a house. 

A word of caution to my fellow-creatures 



74 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



about to invest in that most hazardous of 
all stock, a "furnished dwelling-house," 

Take up every carpet and examine it 
against the light ! 

Sound every dish to certify the cracks ! 

Sit down in every chair to try their legs ! 

Sleep on every bed to test its vitality ! 

If carpets, dishes, chairs, stand the trial ; 
if you rise in the morning safe in wind and 
limb ; haggle no longer, clinch the bargain. 

My " bargain " was in a fair part of the 
city — and eschewing boarders, I let all my 
spare rooms to lodgers — merely to lodg- 
ers ! 

I believe, now-a-days, it is thought diffi- 
cult to determine a person's status. 

Although I had undergone " an experi- 
ence " I was most awful green. 

My house seemed well filled. The occu- 
pants coming to me one after another to 
ascertain whether they could retain their 
rooms, and on what terms, appeared satis- 
fied that it. had come into my hands. 



FROM GOOD TO BAD. 75 

One thing struck me as a little curious. 
With a single exception, they were all girls. 

Now I had made up my mind to lodge 
gentlemen ; but they were here — so nice 
and pleasant — and besides, " a bird in 
hand is worth two in the bush " any day. I 
could not find it in my heart to send them 
away. 

In putting things to rights, and making 
them comfortable generally, a week passed 
on. 

I thought I had fallen upon a streak of 
luck now, sure — and settled myself down 
for the winter — when lo ! the aforesaid 
" exception," a young man, appeared ; and 
requested an interview. 

All honor to that young man ! 

Be he what he may — be he where he 
may — I thank him ! 

He asked me if I understood the nature 
of my house, and the character of its in- 
mates ? 



J6 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Perceiving that I -did not comprehend, he 
went on to inform me, "that I was at the 
head of a first-class c fancy ' establishment ; 
with a first-class set of kept mistresses un- 
der my immediate charge." 

Transfixed with horror, I heard him 
through. 

They had been deceived by the retiring 
landlady. 

I was not what they supposed. 

His conscience would not suffer me to 
be kept in the dark another day. Under 
seal of secrecy he made the expose, leaving 
me at liberty to act as I thought proper. 

It was midnight ! 

Falling flat to the floor, I passed the 
night in an agony of thought. 

To clear the house was, of course, a fore- 
gone conclusion. 

But what would my friends say ? my 
mother ? my child ? 

O God! if thou hadst not sustained me 
through that fearful suspense 



FROM GOOD TO BAD. J J 

Morning dawned. If never before — nor 
never since — that day I saw the sun rise ; 
and by nine o'clock there was not a soul on 
the premises save myself and the aston- 
ished cook. 

I was smothered ! I could not breathe ! 
rushing, I threw windows and doors wide 
open, to let in all of Heaven's pure air. 

I had been to a great deal of expense. 
The place was in fine order. However, / 
could not enjoy it — and selling at a sacri- 
fice — I was once more afloat ! 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE QUIET TOWN OF L . 

" Seekest thou rest, O mortal ? seek it no more on earth." 
" Man, thou hast a social spirit." 

Disgusted with my city experiences, I 
sought a more tranquil sphere ; and accord- 
ingly withdrew from " the haunts of men " 
to the quiet town of L . 

I still felt alone. Amid all, my heart was 
continually thrown back upon itself to con- 
sume its own vitality. 

From year to year I became more and 
more unhappy. Every change seemed for 
the worse. 

Shall it be the same with this last ? 

The few friends I had in the place tried 
to make it agreeable — but their efforts not 



THE QUIET TOWN OF L . 79 

being met half-way, were discontinued — 
and life was at a dead lock. 

Better had it forever remained so ! 

I had one accomplishment which now 
came into play. 

I sewed well. 

That I had been early taught to do ; and 
as a child, it had been no small gratification 
to hear friends praise my beautiful stitches. 

Sewing is a safety-valve! many a disor- 
dered fancy passes off at the point of the 
needle. I always pitied the sterner sex for 
this, their great deprivation. 

But they have their cigars ! and smoke is 
useful ! 

With all my improvidence, I was eager 
to earn ; and so pressed this gift into the 
service. 

I made shirts — fine shirts — for gentle- 
men ; and the opportunity given ; as in the 
case of a young friend ; I have no doubt I 
too, could have secured a good husband, if 



80 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I had wanted one, through the agency of 
" custom sewing." 

I presume my power of " attraction " con- 
tinued in full force. 

I judge so, from the many professions of 
undying love poured into my listless ears. 

I did not wish to marry. It was sug- 
gested, that after such a lapse of time, to 
change my condition would be more than 
proper ; I, however, did not care to. That 
was enough. 

Even my strong craving for sympathy 
had somewhat abated. 

The fact was, I had now got thoroughly 
interested in my shirts I 

I received them from an establishment 
where they were manufactured to order; 
and have often wondered if my male ac- 
quaintance, in slipping on their well-fitting 
garment, dreamed whose fingers had put it 
together ! or whether, when we met, they 
noted the close scrutiny to which they were 



THE QUIET TOWN OF L . ■ 8 1 

subjected, in my desire to see if the " plaits " 
were all right! 

" There is no peace for the wicked ! " 
Less for a widow ! 

In this secluded place my Evil Genius 
again turned up, and planted itself directly 
in my path ; this time also, in the question 
able shape of — another married man ! 

What was up ? 

Had I to make good the deficiencies of 
my wedded female friends ? 

In some cases, the task would be too Her- 
culean. 

In this, I did not make the attempt : but 
I must here confess ; the good looks, the 
good heart, the evident penchant of the 
gentleman, excited an interest — and per- 
chance would have made a deeper impres- 
sion — had I not previously been ground to 
powder for the very same offense ; thinking 



82 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

a little too much of a man, sworn to an- 
other ! 

Experience is a very costly, but a very 
good teacher, where it does not come too 
late. 

/am indebted to it — and have written 
on the most obscure leaf of my private 
diary — if married again, look sharp to your 
husband ; and put no faith in that arrant 
humbug — sympathy! 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE FATES. 

" That I may see once more 
The splendor of the setting sun 
Gleam on thy mirrored wave." 

" And thou Lachesis 
Dost spin the thread of human life I" 

Montreal ! Grand in its churches ! Its 
convents ! Its religious processions ! Its 
situation ! 

Whoever has courage to ascend the tur- 
ret of " Notre Dame " — fifteen feet higher 
than our own Bunker Hill Monument — is 
richly repaid in a charming panoramic view 
of the city at his feet. 

Spanning the St. Lawrence, is the far- 
famed Victoria Bridge ; and the noble river 
itself, with many an island lying upon its 
calm bosom. 



84 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

As I write, memory vividly recalls the 
happy hours passed upon its waters ; the 
fear of its dangerous rapids being lost in 
admiration of the scenery along its shores. 

Here, too, occurs this singular phenom- 
enon — the Ottawa and St. Lawrence flow- 
ing side by side — each retaining its dis- 
tinctive color. 

Montreal, Americanized as it is, presents 
in itself and its surroundings so much of 
the foreign and picturesque, that each sea- 
son beholds its streets thronged with trav- 
ellers seeking the cool, invigorating air; to- 
gether with the thousand objects of interest 
claiming attention at every step. 

And artists — endeavoring to transfer to 
canvas the mountain, crowned to. its top 
with foliage ; through which, glimpses may 
be caught of a winding road gay with vehi- 
cles of every description ; from the youth- 
ful occupants of which — it would require 
but little stretch of the imagination — ■ 



THE FATES. gr 

music and laughter are borne back upon 
the wind ! 

Neither does he forget the low, quaint 
cottage, adjoining the splendid mansion; 
each conspicuous by contrast. 

Nor the curious costumes ; making in 
appearance, grandfathers and grandmothers 
of the young : but which delusion is in- 
stantly- dispelled by the brilliant eye, seen 
nowhere out of Italy, save in the Canadian 
born peasant. 

Summer has gone! Winter approaches! 
Travellers and artists hie them to more 
congenial climes. Ice is formed ! The 
waters of the St. Lawrence congeal. Snow 
descends ! The mountain trees bend be- 
neath its weight. 

It piles the streets so high, that from op- 
posite windows, neighbors can scarcely see 
one another. 

Unbroken in its depth — unstained in its 
whiteness — it lay the whole distance be- 



S6 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

tween this great city of " Our Lady," and 
the obscure, unknown village of Laprairie. 

The small houses are far apart ! 

How, in case of sickness ? 

A watchful Providence is above all ; and 
has in equal remembrance, the favored in- 
habitant of the city, the lone dweller in 
the hamlet. 

Thus it came to pass — though the storm 
raged, and the wind blew round the isolated 
house — that mingling with its blasts, an- 
gels heard the tiny wail of a new-born in- 
fant ; a mother thanked God her agony was 
over — a father clasped to his heart — a 
son! 

Of foreign birth, proud of his ancestry, 
one of whom, high in rank, had fought un- 
der the first Napoleon ; exclusive in his 
feelings, naturally and by force of educa- 
tion ; Monsieur Chaudet, induced by the 
prospect of more easily acquired wealth, 



THE FATES. 87 

came to the Canadas; intending eventually 
to make the " States " his home. 

But a " winsome " maiden interfered with 
his plans ; and settling down — 

"Far from the busy haunts of men " — 

his wife, his books, his fields, engaged his 
attention, until a new ambition was aroused 
by the birth of the little Gustave. 

Very early in life the child discovered a 
nature sensitive to the last degree. 

Each influence, for the time being, en- 
tirely swayed him ; and the transition from 
good to bad — or from bad to good — was 
so instantaneous and so complete, that it 
was amazing one identity could display 
such conflicting phases. 

That the boy might have educational ad- 
vantages and mingle with his fellows, the 
quiet country was exchanged for the bus- 
tling city. Laprairie — for Montreal. 

Here, witnessing frequent military pa- 



88 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

rades, he acquired a taste for display ; and 
although placed under immediate care oi 
the most self-denying Catholic order; the 
very ritual of their church — accompanied 
by its bewildering music — so cultivated in 
him the aesthetic, that no Parsee adored 
his burning god, as the young Gustave — 
"the Beautiful!" 

His disposition was generous. His heart 
tender. His talents of a high order. 

Under a father's judicious training there 
might have resulted, from these several 
characteristics, a perfect whole. 

To the irreparable loss of the son, the 
father — hardly entered upon middle life — 
was suddenly cut down. 

And Gustave — the gifted, the tender- 
hearted, the generously disposed, the easily 
influenced to good or bad; an orphan, be- 
side himself with grief — was thrown at an 
early age upon the world, to receive its im- 
press of virtue or vice, as his all important 
" first step " should determine. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

LA MAISON DE MAUVAISE FAME. 

" And the wages of her sin shall be hereafter.' 
" Look again on this fair girl." 

A large house, brown-stone front, in a 
fashionable quarter of the city. 

It was evening. 

The street was brilliant with gas. 

Only a close observer, however, could 
have detected lights within the mansion. 
Heavy draperies thoroughly screened the 
windows. At intervals alone, a curtain sud- 
denly raised, and as immediately dropped, 
gave a glimpse of the magnificence within. 

In truth, everything wealth could com 
mand was to be seen and enjoyed there. 

Carpets, so soft the footfall left no echo. 



QO AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Furniture, gorgeous in its appointments 
without regard to cost. 

Pictures, selected with evident care and 
taste. 

And mirrors, from floor to ceiling reflect- 
ing back this beauty, apparently doubled 
the size of the already spacious apartment. 

The hall was dimly lighted. From time 
to time as a person entered, the door was 
hastily opened, and at once carefully closed. 

Well-dressed were they who ascended 
those steps. To be envied, in that they 
were Fortune's favorites — and possessed 
the " Open Sesame " to even that aristo- 
cratic dwelling ; the pass-word to which was 
— money ! 



" Ho, there ! wine for a dozen ! " peremp- 
torily called a young man to a retreating 
waiter — as he threw himself into a seat be- 
fore a marble table, somewhat apart from 
the other occupants of the room. 



LA MAISON DE MAUVAISE FAME. 91 

" Lor ! massa ' Gus ' — you ain't goin' for 
to drink all that ar wine, your own self?" 
asked the negro, answering the order as 
directed. 

u Never you mind. Clear out ! — and 
don't show your woolly head till called for 
— but be mighty sure you are on hand 
then ; " impatiently responded the individual 
thus addressed. 

" Goin' it strong for a young un ; guess 
he can't stand all that ar liquor an' keep his 
eyes peeled ; " muttered the darkey as he 
closed the door. 

Rising, the youth crossed the room ; and 
with " Come on, Dick ! have a drink ? " 
seized a comrade by the arm and dragged 
him over to his table. 

" Ha ! French blood 's up ! jealous, by 
Jove ! won't let me finish my talk with the 
pretty Louise ! Don't want anybody but 
yourself round ! If that 's your go — better 
take her away from here — or you won't 



9 2 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



have her long. See ! another has already 
got my place. Harris — that rich, old swell 
— by all that 's good ! A seat longside that 
girl don't get cold, you bet ! " 

The taunting words were unheeded. 
For making the same discovery, Gustave 
had pounced upon the girl called " Louise," 
and fairly lifting her out the circle of her 
admirers, had carried — as he would have a 
babe — the slight figure, and set her down 
close by himself. 

It was done so suddenly there was no 
opportunity for resistance. 

"That 's too bad ! " exclaimed the person 
thus deprived of his fair companion ; direct- 
ing a fierce glance at his bold rival. " Just 
the cut of that young scamp, how do you 
call him ? Always takes exactly what one 
wants, without so much as saying, ' By your 
leave ! ' * There is honor among thieves ! ' " 

" What s that about thieves ? " inter- 
rupted Gustave. " Look sharp to your 



LA MAIS ON DE MAUVA1SE FAME. 93 

tongue, my fine fellow, if you don't want it 
pulled out by the roots ! All is fair in war 
you know ! " 

" I say, Harris ! why make a damn 'd fool 
of yourself? The girl don't care a snap for 
you, anyhow — and they say she 's bewitched 
with that fiery chap's black eyes ! Console 
yourself! — my boy — console yourself! 
' There's as good fish in the sea as ever 
came out of it' Now here 's " — 

" Damnation! if you want to console 
yourself, do it ! But I swear ! / am not go- 
ing to submit to anything of this kind. 
We are six to one, and have Louise I 
will!" 

" Take her if you can get her," remarked 
Gustave, quietly sipping his wine ; at the 
same time bringing all the fascination of his 
dark eyes to bear upon the lovely female at 
his side, " Take her if you can get her " — 
and raising his glass to his lips — " Here is 
to your success, gentlemen ! 

" ' He who wins shall wear/ " 



94 A N AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" Then, by Heaven, you French devil ! / 
will wear. Come on ! " and with one bound 
clearing the space — Harris had his hand 
almost upon the girl's shoulder — who, half 
dead with fright, clung trembling to her 
companion. 

Almost — but not quite. For Gustave, 
throwing her from him — eyes blazing with 
fury — sprang to his feet ! 

Maddened by rage he drew his revolver, 

— and the next moment would have been 
Harris' last, had not the woman — with the 
instinctive devotion of her sex — flung her- 
self fainting upon the breast of the man she 
loved — and stayed back his hand from the 
terrible crime. 

The uproar now became general. 
Crazed with passion and drink, oaths and 
curses came thick and fast ; and blows too 

— some of which fell heavily upon tenderly 
reared forms — all unused to such treatment. 

Murder, after all, would inevitably have 



LA MAISON DE MAUVAISE FAME. 95 

closed the scene — but for the timely ap- 
pearance of the " Madam " of this stylish 
hell, — who with the warning, " Gentlemen ! 
the police are upon you ! " quickly cleared 
the room — by passing them through a 
secret passage into the next — outwardly, 
highly respectable, brown-stone front ! 

Dick, who during the entire fracas had 
taken the best possible care of himself, had 
gone with the crowd. 

Gustave, the chief actor, had resumed his 
seat and again addressed himself to his 
wine. 

He was alone with the girl. 

The excitement under which he had la- 
bored all the evening, passed away. His 
voice was low and tender. 

" Drink, Louise ! " filling high her glass, 
and touching it to his own lips ere he of- 
fered it to his companion; "drink, ' mig- 
nonne ! ' nothing like wine to drown trouble, 
— and you and I both need it — for, to- 
night we part ! " 



96 an autobiography. 

The girl raised her eyes to his in an ag- 
ony of doubt! 

He answered their mute appeal. 

" Yes, Louise ! we must part. The 
shadow of life has fallen upon me. I came 
here purposely to drink, as I never did 
before, that the very recollection of grief 
might be taken out of my soul. But it is 
of no use " — and bowing his head upon 
his hand — he wept convulsively. 

She watched him with intensest interest ; 
at length, laying her delicate hand upon his 
dark hair, timidly murmured — "Dearest! 
there is something beside wine to drown 
trouble — there is love ! " 

Her voice took on a beseeching tone. 

" Take me out of this place. O, Gus- 
tave ! carry me far away, where no familiar 
eye shall see me ; and — all your own — 
let me, your Louise, be the one to bring 
you back to happiness ? " 

The youth raised his head, and gazed 



LA MAISON DE MAUVAISE FAME. QJ 

long and earnestly upon the beautiful 
pleader. 

" No, ' mignonnel it cannot be. I am not 
ungrateful. I shall bear with me till my 
latest hour the remembrance of what you 
have saved me from this night, but to-day 
the knowledge came to me that I am an 
orphan, and penniless. 

" Nor shall you remain here. In the pure 
atmosphere of your distant home, by re- 
pentance, you shall atone for our sin of the 
past few months." 

She scarcely heeded his words. 

She threw herself before him, and lay 
moaning at his feet. She entreated. She 
implored. In vain ; and the dread convic- 
tion fastened upon her that she saw to- 
night — for the last time, — the face of him 
she had loved " not wisely, but too well ! " 

At last, worn out with fatigue and sorrow, 
Gustave threw himself upon a sofa and 
slept. 



9$ AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Turning down the lights, Louise, kneel- 
ing by his side until break of day, watched 
with the unsleeping vigilance of love, every 
movement of the handsome sleeper. 

Ah, Gustave ! impulsive, misguided Gus- 
tave ! dost thou thus redeem the ambitious 
hope of thy dead father for thee, his eldest 
bo. n ? 

Ah, Louise ! devoted, unhappy Louise ! 
would thy tears, thy prayers had availed ; 
and that he, upon whom thou lavished the 
deepest affection, had returned thy love ; 
had met the cravings of thy fond heart ! 

So wouldst thou have been saved. 

So would I have escaped the misery that 
was to result from meeting, in the future, 
one of whose very existence I was as yet in 
such blissful ignorance. 



CHAPTER XV. 

ST. LOUIS. 
" Thy father's friend, and thine, who tendereth thee tried love." 

" By Heaven ! I am in luck. St. Louis, 
too, has a free lunch ! 

" I say, Charley ! what an institution this 
is! 

" How would a poor devil of a fellow 
manage just now if she hadn't? every cent 
gone, not a place to put my head. No mat- 
ter. Food before sleep, and I am starved — 
that 's a fact. A shame too, with that rich 
uncle of mine, for my father's son to be 
walking the street in this shape ! " 

" Uncles don't help. Keep up good cour- 
age, Gustave. Better times ahead. If I 
had a dollar in the world, you should have 



IOO AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

half. Come ! you are too good-looking a 
fellow to be down in the mouth. Pluck up ! 
and walk right straight into the affections 
of some rich girl, and your everlasting for- 
tune 's made without any further bother. 
All I'll charge you for the idea is — let me 
see ? — you may set me up ! " 

" What in ? — food, or liquor ? — the last 
I judge, from the way you handle it — but 
remember, the ' drinks ' have got to be paid 
for!" 

" Yes — I know ; but take a glass ; it will 
give you strength to look up your fortune 

— the girl — eh, Gustave ! " 

" No, I will eat ; that is free — and I 
shall be ashamed to come here to-morrow 

— so must lay in a stock while I can." 

" Well ! good-by — give us your hand ! 

— and be sure you take my advice. I de- 
clare ' Gus,' — I feel" as good as behind my 
bar — now ! " 

The two young men separated. 



ST. LOUIS. IOI 

One, to walk the streets in absolute want. 
Not a cent in his pocket; long distance 
away ; what should he do ? Walk forever ? 
No — his mind is made up ; his dinner was 
given him — his lodging, he will beg. 

" But for the love of Heaven, landlord ! — 
only for the night. Just think ! — for over a 
week I have not slept in a bed. I am com- 
pletely worn out. Rest assured I will pay 
you soon as I can earn the money." 

" Lots say the same thing. But I'm a 
tender-hearted chicken — and you're an 
honest -looking fellow — so I suppose I'll 
have to take your word this time. 

" Look here, Captain ! see how I'm con- 
tinually bamboozled into harboring these 
young people who will pay me when they 
get work. If half they promise comes in, 
I shall be a rich man ! " 

The individual thus addressed, turned. 
No sooner had his eye fallen on Gustave, 



102 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

than — seizing him with both hands — he 
held him in a hearty embrace. 

" You here ! — the son of my old friend 
begging a night's shelter ; why, how 's this ? 

— landlord ! I'll take this young gentleman 
off your hands. Thought I recognized the 
voice — precisely like your father's — don't 
speak — know all about his death — and it 
shall go hard if I don't find you a good 
berth, for his sake. Got one on hand now, 
by Jove ! How would you like to be clerk 

— Captain's clerk — of the good, staunch 
steamboat Isabel, all the way from here to 
New Orleans ? " 

The young man overcome by his feel- 
ings, could hardly trust himself to reply; 
and when taking out his purse, the Captain 
handed him seventy-five dollars — his first 
month's pay in advance — with the kind re- 
mark, " You youngsters are always out of 
money, and you may need this," Gustave 
could restrain himself no longer, but burst 
into a flood of tears. 



.ST. LOUIS. 



I03 



His affairs had now taken so unexpected 
and favorable a turn, that he entirely forgot 
his Mentor, Charley's advice ; thereby oust- 
ing that free-hearted young person out of 
his prospective bar ; and taking the risk of 
losing a rich wife, he accepted on the spot 
the generous offer of his father's friend. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



THE "ISABEL." 



" I know a maiden fair to see, 
Take care ! " 

" I would that I could utter 
My feelings without shame ; 
And tell him how I love him, 
Nor wrong my virgin fame." 

" And he that would say 
A pretty girl nay " — 



And the Captain's clerk liked his berth. 

To be sure, he had a good deal to look 
after — with considerable responsibility for 
one so young — and what was new to him, 
a " gang " entirely under his direction. 

But he had already seen something of 
the world, and felt quite equal to meeting 
this increased demand upon his ability. 



THE "ISABEL." 105 

The negro element was his especial en- 
joyment ; and they came fully as much to 
appreciate him. 

In the frequent stops of the Isabel to load 
and unload, Massa " Gus " as they invaria- 
bly called him, could get the allotted 
amount of work out of them with less driv- 
ing than had been their wont. 

It is barely possible they had an eye to 
the extra whiskey which they would be sure 
to get, if they gave satisfaction to their 
young master. 

There was plenty of excitement, too, con- 
nected with the life ; constantly " taking 
on " and " letting off " passengers at the dif- 
ferent stations ; for somehow the Isabel this 
particular season proved to be the most pop- 
ular boat on the river. 

And when regular duties were over, com- 
pany, cards, and dances whiled many an 
hour of the passage up and down the Mis- 
sissippi. 



1 06 AN A UTOBIOGRA PHY. 

" What the deuce has got into the 
women, ' Gus,' this summer ? " sung out the 
Captain. " Have they all taken to travel- 
ling for a living ? /never carried so many 
before in any one year, by Jove ! as I have 
the last four months. I believe it 's you — 
with those devilish black eyes — you young 
rascal ! that s bewitched them all. Well — 
go ahead — it 's good for the boat ! " 

Gustave with a smile turned away ; being 
pretty sure in his own mind that in some 
instances it certainly was, either himself, or 
his " eyes." 

In one, he might have sworn to the fact. 

On a never-to-be-forgotten evening, as it 
afterwards proved, being short of a hand at 
Euchre, they had called as usual upon the 
young clerk. 

His partner was a lady he had never seen 
before. 

She was well-dressed and handsome ; very 
agreeable, and remarkably self-possessed. 



THE "ISABEL." IO7 

She was alone on the " trip ; " and in that 
way the accidental meeting at the card-table, 
resulted in a more intimate acquaintance. 

By the time she reached her destination 
it was quite evident that the " black eyes " 
had done their usual execution ; and that 
the stranger had left with their owner — ■ 
her heart. 

This flirtation would like many others, 
in time, have passed from his mind ; if, as 
the Captain said, the person in question 
had not persistently taken " to travel." 

Every few weeks she made the passage ; 
always alone ; and each time, making no 
attempt whatever to disguise her feelings, 
became more decided in her advances upon 
Gustave. 

" She showed him the way ; and she showed him the way, 
She showed him the way to woo." 

It now began really to look as though he 
would be obliged to marry the lady to get 
rid of her. The case was desperate. He 
consulted his friend, the Captain. 



108 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" Do no such thing," was the blunt reply ; 
" you are too young. Ship her ! " 

As his affections were in no wise entan- 
gled — and he had other plans for his fu- 
ture — that decided the question ; and inti- 
mating as delicately as possible the exact 
state of the case, he supposed, poor fellow, 
he was well quit of the whole thing. 

Once, he had broken off " an affair " — it 
made his very heart ache to recall that — 
but then he was not to blame ; he could 
not marry her. 

This however, he was not destined so 
easily to dismiss. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

ANITA. 

Abra was ready ere I named her name, 
And when I called another Abra came." 

" She can both false and friendly be. 
Beware ! Beware ! " 

For some time Gustave saw no more of 
his would-be love, Anita. 

Finally, towards the close of the season, 
she came on board to make the " up trip " 
accompanied by a gentleman, whom she 
introduced as her brother. 

They were to be a while in St. Louis, 
and hoped often to have the pleasure of 
meeting Gustave. 

As the lady appeared to have given up 
all designs upon his liberty — and the gen- 
tleman appeared to be a genial, polite man 



HO AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

of the world — nothing could have been 
more agreeable than this proposition to the 
Captain's clerk. 

When the boat landed — and Anita es- 
corted to her hotel — the two new friends 
strolled about the city ; regaling themselves 
as young men will, with a cigar there, a 
drink here. 

It occurred to Gustave that the stranger 
was particularly attentive, urging him not 
to spare the wine ; and once he thought — 
but it was so quickly done — ■ if at all — that 
he immediately dismissed the base suspi- 
cion from his mind. 

At length Walter proposed going to look 
up his sister; and took his companion, 
nothing loth, along with him. 

Finding Anita rested, and already seated 
in the carriage preparatory to taking a 
drive, her brother instantly placed himself 
beside her ; calling upon Gustave to do the 
same ; and all were rapidly whirled off. 



ANITA. HI 

The walk, the ride, or perhaps the wine 
he had drank in such unusual quantities, 
began to make themselves felt. 

Silent, Gustave was glad to lean back at 
his ease ; and if not asleep, was at least in 
that dim, unconscious state, in which the 
senses scarcely comprehend what is going 
on around. 

" Anita, mia ! you have got him now — 
sure — fast enough. A fine scrape! to 
bring your* brother into, just as he has trav- 
elled half over the world to see you once 
more. Yes — a devilish fine scrape ! What 
if the authorities get hold of the affair ? — 
where am I ? — and you too — sister mine 
— answer me that ? Now in Italy " — 

" Hush, Walter! not a word. My life's 
happiness shall be your reward. We are 
all that is left to each other. You would 
not see your sister die before your eyes ! — 
and I tell you again — O, my brother ! life, 
without Gustave — my heart's idol — I will 



112 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

not accept. But have we not arrived at our 
destination ? " 

" I hope so ; for really I begin to feel 
skittish ! Suppose your handsome lover 
should prove rebellious ; and refuse out- 
right the felicity of calling you — my pretty 
— his bride ; what then ? " 

" Didn't you use the powder as I told 
you? O, Walter!" 

" Yes ! yes ! Don't look at a fellow so ! 
It is all right; if we can only keep him 
under its influence long enough to get 
through this confounded job. You ought 
to live in Italy. Your blood is too hot for 
this part of the world ! There you could 
try your hand at the drug business — and 
no questions asked — but thank the gods, 
we are here ! In a few moments I shall sa- 
lute you as the cava sposa of the man you 
have risked your life, and mine, to obtain ; 
and then, poor me ! over the water — alone 
— never more to see my darling Anita ! " 



ANITA. 



113 



The carriage stopped. 

The lady and her brother alighted. 

Gustave followed mechanically ; still un- 
der the influence of a powerful narcotic. 

" Hurry up ! or we shall be too late after 
all ; " whispered Walter, as he handed his 
sister up the steps. 

They were evidently expected ; and im- 
mediately ushered into a room — where the 
one occupant, a clergyman, prepared for the 
occasion — was all ready to receive them. 

No time was lost in performing the short 
ceremony, which united for life the young 
girl to the almost unconscious man at her 
side. 

8 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



THE CAPTAIN'S CLERK. 



" In himself ambition is dead." 

" Or, if there 's vengeance in an injured heart, 
And power to wreak it." 

"What! Gustave ! my clerk! gone and 
got married, without so much as telling me, 
his friend, and his fathers friend before 
him ? By Jove ! there is some mistake, 
landlord. ' Gus ' wouldn't serve me such a 
slippery trick ! " 

" He didn't go and get married, as I have 
told you over and over again. Somebody 
took and married him. Don't you remem- 
ber that tall girl — with all that hair — who 
went up and down the river with you so 
often last summer ? " 

" Yes — of course I do ! " 



THE CAPTAIN'S CLERK. 1 15 

" Well ! that 's the one. They say she was 
crazy after your clerk. So she, and her 
scapegrace of a brother — just got home 
from one of his long tramps — fixed it all 
up ; and the rope is spliced ! — tight, too — 
looked out for that — minister 's all regular 

— and the girl has got her certificate to 
show for it." 

" By Jove ! that 's outrageous ! what I call 
a true blue ' out-an'-outer.' But, where is 
* Gus ? ' can't spare him, married or single." 

" You'll have to do it, Captain ! It seems 
by his own account he was drugged ; and 
when he came to and saw how matters 
stood — he swore he wouldn't live with his 
wife — no, not an hour ; and took an awful 
oath — that he'd leave no stone unturned 

— till the cursed knot was untied." 

" Poor fellow ! I must hunt him up. 
Where did you say he was ? It won't do 
to leave him alone to bear all this load ! " 

" He 's gone off; and you won't see him 



I 1 6 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

round these parts in a hurry, Captain, I tell 
you ! " 

" Sorry. I always knew ' Gus ' was a 
brick — and — by Jove ! — I glory in his 
spunk. What has become of the girl ! " 

" O, her precious brother looked after 
her, poor thing ! It was as much as he 
could do though, to keep her from taking 
her own life ; said she couldn't and she 
wouldn't live without her dear Gustave. 
Finally, they got her into the carriage and 
took her home. I kind of pity her, after 
all. She 's a mighty handsome piece, and 
has always had her own way ! " 

It was as our old friend, the landlord, 
said. Gustave had indeed gone off — 
nobody knew where. 

He had made inquiries, and ascertained 
that more difficulties than he supposed, lay 
in the way of untying the " cursed knot," 
as he styled his forced marriage. 



THE CAPTAIN'S CLERK. 117 

The whole. thing was legal — : with the ex 
ception of his strange statement that he 
had been drugged. That he must prove. 
There was but one witness — the brother 
to the bride. He would not be likely to 
implicate himself, or his sister. 

So the whole matter rested ; and the be- 
trayed man — too sensitive to face his old 
associates — thrown out of his situation, had 
nothing to do but execrate his fate, or his 
"eyes," which had brought him into his 
present unhappy condition. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE GRAND ITALIAN OPERA. 

" Tell me, daughter of taste, what hath charmed thine ear in 
Biusic ? " 

The theatre was ablaze with light ! 

Carriage after carriage deposited its load 
of beauty, fashion, and wealth at its door. 

Boston's favorite Opera was to be ren- 
dered by Boston's favorite artists — and 
everybody susceptible to the silvery sweet- 
ness of Brignoli's " Miserere," or the haunt- 
ing melody of Phillips' " Prison Song" — 
was present. 

From parquet to ceiling was one living 
mass of brilliant and interested spectators. 

I recall the depreciatory remark of the 
great Schiller ; that a Grand Opera is the 



THE GRAND ITALIAN OPERA. \ \ 9 

auto-da-fe of Nature ; yet, always to me — 
the rustle of silk, the sheen of satin, the 
costly lace, the flash of jewel ; the happy 
faces, the subdued laughter, the murmur of 
voices, the restless motion of graceful forms, 
with subtle perfume of the many flowers — 
are fitting accompaniments to the impas- 
sioned, entrancing melody falling upon the 
ear, and hushing every other sound by its 
wondrous spell : falling upon the heart, and 
stirring in its depths longings, O, such irre- 
pressible longings, for the Unseen, for the 
Infinite ! 

High up in the crowd stood a slight, but 
welhformed man ; rather above the medium 
height. That he was young, both face and 
figure disclosed. 

Graceful in attitude, he was now gazing 
intently upon the Prima Donna, oblivious 
to all save the ravishing strains she was 
pouring forth. 



120 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

His hair was of the darkest dye, and so 
thick as partially to conceal his face. Beard 
he had none ; but his full, black mustache, 
hiding his entire upper lip, gave character 
to a mouth otherwise rather feminine. 

His eyes — but wait ! — until the music 
ceases ; and the cheering of the " house " 
■ — breaking the spell — causes him to raise 
them. Ah ! in color they match his hair — 
in size and brilliancy they rival the Italian 
songstress'. 

But soft and tender as they now seem, 
one instinctively shrinks from the lurking 
demon detected there, instantly suggest- 
ing— 

" Land of the Cypress and Myrtle." 

He is alone. Speaks to no one. Recog- 
nizes no one. 

At length, his attention is arrested by two 
ladies — both evidently past their youth — 
who are eagerly discussing between the 



THE GRAND ITALIAN OPERA. 121 

acts the respective merits of their favorite 
singers, and favorite operas. 

The younger, after a while, apparently ac- 
quiesces in the superior musical knowledge 
of her companion; and they again settle 
themselves to listen. 

The young man from time to time re- 
gards them. 

His eyes seek oftenest the face of the 
elder. 

He would be puzzled to give the rea- 
son ; as there is nothing at all observable 
in her appearance. 

Her plain dress serves but as a foil to the 
more gayly attired. Eyes of an uncertain 
hue — complexion, neither dark nor light 
— but mantled with the glow of health. 
She is now in repose ; her whole being is 
absorbed. 

But as he looks, those doubtful eyes flash 
with expression ; teeth even and white, 
gleam between the parted lips ; color deep- 



122 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ens ; and through the master passion of 
her soul — music — the woman before him, 
transformed, is beautiful ! 

Thus they met ! He the younger. She 
the elder. 



CHAPTER XX. 



l'inconnu. 



" Whence, and what art thou ? " 



The Opera, successfully inaugurated, 
lengthened into a season of five or six 
weeks. 

A mutual acquaintance, Fate's chosen 
instrument, bridged over the separating 
chasm with the formal introduction — 

" Allow me the pleasure, Mrs. Penning- 
ton, to present, I hope to your very favora- 
ble notice, my particular friend, Monsieur 
Gustave Chaudet ! " 

This gave the opportunity which each 
— unconsciously destined to influence the 
other for all time — improved. 

We both equally appreciated the " divine 



124 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



art ; " and every evening found us its " most 
constant worshipper." 

From casual glances — resulted smiles ; 
slight recognitions ; occasional remarks. 

I passionately loved music. So intensely 
indeed, as often to sit with closed eyes, that 
no attendant " stage " circumstance might 
distract from the harmony itself. 

Still, I will confess it lent additional in- 
terest that the handsome Unknown, night 
after night, eagerly awaited my entrance to 
conduct me to a seat. 

He appeared quite as much pleased to 
have fallen in with some one in sympathy 
with his tastes — and who whiled with pleas- 
ant talk the expectant moments — before 
the " rising of the curtain" and "between 
the acts." 

Music is a wonderful medium for the 
" tender passion ; " and of those very sen- 
sitive to its power, holds — at times — the 
Fate ! 



UINCONNU. 



125 



Thus we, upon the opening itight com- 
plete strangers — before the last came round 

— were far on the way to an intimate friend- 
ship. 

Meanwhile the stranger had ingratiated 
himself, and narrated many incidents of his 
romantic life. 

He earnestly begged permission to call at 
my residence ; as my society, he assured me, 
had now become essential to his happiness ; 
and few days passed that some of its hours 
were not brightened by his presence. 

It is generally thought there can be but 
little sympathy, no love, between the sexes 

— unless well mated in point of age — years 
being the received data. 

I cannot answer for others — and will 
frankly own — I had never known of but 
one happy connection where this discrep- 
ancy was marked. 

When thinking upon this subject at all, 



126 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

serious objections to spending my life with 
a person so much younger, of course pre- 
sented themselves. 

But I was peculiar; in that, late in life / 
had developed ; thus bringing my feelings 
to a level with his, my junior — who, thanks 
to certain " evenements " — had on the other 
hand, matured very early. 

So that, after all, throwing out of the ac- 
count what was in our case absolutely in- 
commensurate time ; we met on the com- 
iron ground of high health, high spirits, and 
- — inevitable, consequence — a mutual fond- 
ness for high life. 

Friends, alarmed for the result — with 
the usual success attached to those little 
" episodes " — interfered. 

Although it seemed even at the time, to 
my own self, inexplicable how it could come 
to pass ; the cravings of my lonely heart 
were really satisfied ; and — a shining proof 
of Folly attempting to cope with Destiny 



VINCONNU. 12 7 

— I was left to desire no other companion- 
ship. 

We travelled. Beheld with our own eyes 
the grandeur of mountain scenery. 

Saw for ourselves the vast, old ocean ; 
and listened long, to its eternal, solemn ca- 
dence. 

Looked together upon enchanting land- 
scapes ; and through the aesthetic our hearts 
were powerfully drawn out, and attracted 
towards, each other. 

My friend made the most extravagant pro- 
fessions of love ; and those professions I 
had no reason to think otherwise than sin- 
cere. 

But all this while there appeared to be 
a mystery hanging over his life. 

Of his past, I knew nothing ; save what 
he had chosen to impart. I was perfectly 
convinced, however, that something — and 
of a serious nature too — had been with- 
held. 



128 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

He became fitful. At times, giving full 
rein to excitement — fearfully wild; then 
the reaction — and he was equally gloomy. 
In both phases evidently the victim to un- 
happy memories, which, in spite his best 
endeavor, would obtrude. 

I sought in vain to penetrate the veil. 

In the kindest manner — but decidedly 
— he would invariably put me off; until I 
became nearly as miserable as himself, and 
deplored the hour we met. 

He had never spoken of marriage — 
which was singular — as the most casual 
observer could see that his life's fruition lay 
at my disposal. 

" Tous les jours je t'attends; tu reviens tous les jours, 
Est-ce moi qui t'appelle et qui regie ton cours ? " 

This state of things could not continue. 
A denouement was at hand. 
In the course of travel we found our- 
selves at the delightful city of G . 

I had that day privately determined to 



UINCONNU. 129 

bring matters to a crisis ; and unless I could 
satisfactorily fathom the secret, then and 
there, end the acquaintance. 

I obtained his promise to reveal all. But 
upon the very eve of disclosure his heart 
failed him, and the revelation was again 
postponed. 

Feeling now positive that indeed there 
was something of a frightful nature con- 
cealed; I demanded to know the worst, 
however crushing that worst might be. 

By way of answer, he displayed to my 
horror-stricken eyes a poison ; which he 
declared should terminate his existence, if 
the interview resulted as he feared. 

In the face and eyes of this threat, I still 
insisted ; and unable longer to oppose my 
pleadings — with hesitating voice, tearful 
eyes, breaking heart — he spoke of his deep 
love, of his terrible conflict between incli- 
nation and duty, and confessed ; that with 



130 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



all his affections centred in me, he was the 
bound husband to another ! 

Though I tore out my quivering heart ; 
honor compelled instantly to banish from 
my very thought the man who had so en- 
twined himself around its every fibre ; and 
leaving him to bear his own misery as best 
he might, I went from his presence — for- 
ever! 



CHAPTER XXL 

AN INTERVIEW. 
" What concentrated joy or woe in blest or blighted love ! " 

" Scorn me as you will, you are still my 
husband ! I risked reputation — almost life 
itself — to call you mine ; and never, while 
I breathe, shall another bear your name ! " 

" For the last time I ask you. Anita ! 
give me my freedom ? " 

" Not that, Gustave ! — all else in heaven 
and earth ; but not that. Would you drive 
me insane ? " 

" You were already mad when, to ac- 
complish your purpose, you committed the 
fiendish act. O, but you were cunning ! 
No witness save your brother, as to the 
manner in which you entrapped me." 



l$l 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



" Gustave ! It was love that drove me to 
it O, forgive me ! Take me once to your 
heart. Look ! on my bended knees I swear 
I never loved another. Every pulsation is 
for you, and you alone. Devotion such as 
mine, cannot fail in time to win your ten- 
derness. Grant me that time ? By all your 
hopes of future happiness do not, Gustave, 
do not — refuse me now ! " 

" Anita ! I came here for no scene — sim- 
ply to obtain my release ; but since you 
deny me justice, hear what I say ! As you 
love me, so love I another; and had not 
my honor prevented — in her ignorance of 
my great wrong — she would to-day have 
been my wife." 

" And you dare tell me this ! Never will 
I grant your request. So help me God ! I 
am your wife. As you will not permit me 
to be your Happiness, I will be your Mis- 
ery. Go where you will ; with whom you 
will ; as your Evil Genius, I shall be for- 
ever at your side ! " 



AN INTERVIEW. 



133 



" Then be the blood of your brother upon 
your own head, Anita ! By Heaven ! dead 
or alive, he shall be made to confess ; for — 
I will be free ! " 

Before she could find words to reply, he 
was gone ; and terrified, lest he should put 
his threat in immediate execution, she 
rushed from the room to warn her sick 
brother ; who, upon a sick-bed, was, alas ! 
doomed by a Word more potent than any 
could be uttered with mortal lips ! 



CHAPTER XXII. 

WALTER. 

" But now the hand of fate is on the curtain, 
And gives the scene to light." 

" You surely would not betray me, Wal- 
ter ! your only sister ! who has known no 
other love than yours from infancy ? " 

" Anita ! I cannot die with this fearful sin 
on my soul. Think of it ! the life's happi- 
ness of the young man destroyed ; not 
through fault of his — but yours — and 
mine." 

" To save him, must my name be made a 
by-word and . scoffing ? Walter ! kneeling 
at his feet, he spurned me as he would have 
a dog. Is it not sufficient anguish to be 
thus driven from my husband ? and to lose 



WALTER. I35 

you ? for you are dying — O, my brother ! 
— I never harmed you ; and I know in 
your last hours you will not rashly do any- 
thing to increase my wretchedness ! " 

" You say truly, I cannot live ; and the 
good Priest has this day told me that only 
by confession, can I hope myself to be for- 
given. I must not .bear this secret with me 
to the grave." 

" Walter ! have mercy upon me — upon 
me — your sister ; or I am lost, undone ! " 

" Dearest ! even for you I cannot risk the 
bliss of heaven. Anita ! meet me there ! 
As a " Sister of Charity," atone for the 
past ; and with the blessings of the unfor- 
tunate upon your head, enter Paradise ! " 

That day — the dearly beloved, absolved 
brother closed his eyes in death. 

That day — the heart-broken, despairing 
Anita was placed in charge of Sister Irene. 

And that day — Gustave received through 



I 36 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

an unknown source, in the handwriting of 
Walter, his friend at the last, a full confes- 
sion of the wicked deception practiced upon 
him by his sister — and by himself — th»* 
dead! 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE LETTER. 
" For a letter, timely writ, is a rivet to the chain of affection." 

Why could I not altogether have ban- 
ished my late unhappy experience ? 

Why not — to the end — have remained 
independent and self-reliant ? 

It was not to be. 

I was in the power of an irresistible Des- 
tiny. 

The Fates were busily weaving the dark 
web of my future ; elaborating day by day 
the everlasting truth, 

" The mills of the gods grind slowly, 
But they grind exceeding small." 

I suffered ; more than I chose to acknowl- 
edge. 

Was I never again to know peace ? 



I38 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Was every anticipated happiness to be- 
come ashes in my grasp ? 

I withdrew, as of old, into myself. I 
nursed in secret my grief. I no longer 
found anything in outward circumstance to 
give pleasure ; and I discovered too late — 
that I had ventured my all upon the truth- 
fulness of one man — and had lost ! 

I knew, moreover, that man was wretched. 

All could have been saved by the frank 
avowal of his secret marriage. 

True — fear of losing — had been his ex- 
cuse for not informing me sooner. 

Through this selfish motive he had 
blasted the prospects of both. 

I could not forgive ; him — for bringing 
upon me this new trouble ; myself — for 
blindly trusting where I really knew so 
little. 

Meanwhile, armed with his precious doc- 
ument Gustave proceeded at once to lay it 
before the proper authorities. 



THE LETTER. 



1 39 



His previous statement being so well 
substantiated, he had now no difficulty in 
getting from the court his papers. To his 
infinite relief his marriage vow was disan- 
nulled, and he pronounced at liberty ! 

The " cursed knot " was at length untied. 

But what course should he now pursue ? 

How convince her he loved, that his 
honor was unimpeached ? 

He wrote; and the same day that was 
telegraphed the all comprehensive word 
" free ! " — I received this letter : — 

" Ma chere Amie, — Blame me not. The 
devotion of my life shall prove to you I 
am not unworthy. Ecoutez ! My situation 
was perplexing in the extreme. United in 
marriage by force — to as it were a stranger 
— never heeding for one moment her ar- 
dent protestations of undying affection ; 
never seeing, in truth, her face from the 
hour of the illegal ceremony until I de- 
manded my liberation ; but utterly unable 



I4O AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to prove all this ; I have necessarily been 
under a cloud. Only the death of her 
brother saved me. During his sickness his 
burdened conscience gave him no rest ; and 
at the last hour, regardless of the entreaties 
of his sister, he confessed to his Priest the 
whole ; thus leaving it in my power, as an 
honorable man, to throw myself upon your 
forgiveness ; and — may I hope ? — upon 
your love. You are older than I. ' Quim- 
porte I'age?' Do not, I beg, give one thought 
to the idle fancy that will ever affect my 
feelings towards you ; for before my Maker, 
I declare to you — singular as it may ap- 
pear — I never have loved but one, never 
can love but one, never shall marry but 
one. You, you alone, must henceforth 
prove my guiding star. Adieu — Je pense 
toujours a vous, et mon coeur reste avec 
vous — Gustave. " 

This placed the entire matter in a new 
light. 



THE LETTER. 141 

I had now but to consider whether, 
against the judgment of my friends, I dared 
take the responsibility of marrying this man 
so many years my junior. 

What does not love dare ? 

Ignoring all difference in age ; in relig 
ion ; in circumstance ; in position : my life 
all passed ; his all to come ; and risking, as 
never before, my future upon this last throw 
— I again married ! 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE HONEYMOON. 

" Honey-sweet, but lacking not the bitter." 

Immediately upon our marriage we had 

secured a house in R Street and there 

collected our " household gods." 

That was the happy era of my newly 
wedded life ! 

Gustave was devoted to me, and to all 
my interests ; and worked hard to establish 
business plans upon a firm footing. 

We were comfortably and pleasantly situ- 
ated. 

Our days glided peacefully on ; our even- 
ings made very enjoyable by books, music, 
and the society of friends. 

I never tired of listening to his fine voice, 



THE HONLYMOON. 



143 



as, accompanied by the piano, he sang the 
ballads I loved. 

In my contentment I surely refuted the 
" croak " that, in marrying Gustave, " I was 
rushing upon certain ruin ! " 

And we were happy ! We had a honey- 
moon ! 

No marriage — consummated though it 
be under the most disadvantageous, irre- 
concilable circumstances — but has that. 

No tw;> — however thrown together in the 
intimate relationship of man and wife — can 
fail to appreciate, and at first, find satisfac- 
tion in the new tie. 

Novelty lends its powerful charm ! 

Both, too, are upon good behavior. All 
that is most agreeable and best in their 
" make up," is unconsciously displayed. 

Annoying dissimilarities are not suffered 
to appear. 

Mutual " politesse " conceals these. 

What a pity human nature is such uncer 
tain stuff that " familiarity breeds con- 



144 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



tempt ; " and that knowing this — individu- 
als, united for life, should ever allow this all 
important " politesse" to become a thing of 
the past ! 

The subject has been exhausted. Every- 
thing has been written and said to impress 
the fact that life is made up of trifles ; and 
that constant attention to these " trifles " is, 
most of all, essential to the newly married. 

Burlesque has ridiculed the idea of a man 
devoting himself, and showing after mar- 
riage the attentions of the lover; but no 
burlesque, no ridicule can do away the 
" fixed fact," that upon these attentions de- 
pend all the happiness, and nearly all the 
affection, of the wife. 

In this direction I had no cause for com- 
plaint. 

My " Don Juan " had subsided into a 
most exemplary husband. 

From the time of our meeting, his flirta- 
tion period had come to a sudden and com- 
plete " finis/ 5 



THE HONEYMOON. 145 

Still, he was not perfect. 

His fiery nature had developed a suspi- 
cious, jealous disposition that the merest 
word excited. 

True, he never raised his eyes to another 
— but what was not so satisfactory an ac- 
companiment — he never permitted me to 
raise mine ! 

Necessarily, to avoid outbreaks, a good 
deal of valuable time was spent in the un- 
profitable exercise of " walking over eggs." 

Taking all things into consideration, I 
have come to the settled conclusion that it 
is not desirable to be so exclusively an " ob- 
ject of interest." 

Shadow of this " grande passion" — is 
Jealousy ; which, as a bane to domestic 
peace, stands unrivaled ! 

There is no reason connected with it ! 

" Trifles light as air, 
Are to the jealous, confirmation strong 
As proof of holy writ ! " 



I46 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Per necessity; my friends, and many 
harmless pleasures went by the board. 

All this was as nothing, however, in com- 
parison with a danger that threatened to 
engulf my every comfort, my every hope, 
my every ambition. 

Slowly, but surely it approached ! 

And after months of torturing suspense, 
the conviction was forced upon me, that un- 
deniably well as my young husband loved 
me — he as undeniably loved his glass bet- 
ter. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

MY CREED. 

" It is not for me to stipulate for creeds." 
" By giving others many goods, to his own cost and hinderance." 

I am Orthodox! — always have been — 
through thick and thin ! 

I believe in the Lord. 

He looketh from heaven upon the chil- 
dren of men; and — in His high Omnis- 
cience — can determine to a dead certainty 
who among them needeth discipline. 

He looked down. He saw me. He did 
not hesitate to put on the screws. 

With Gustave, domestic life began slightly 
to pall. 

Young men, the least bit fast — under 



I48 AN A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

one pretense and another — were from time 
to time introduced into our circle, to give it 
a little more zest. 

In spite of my remonstrance, they gradu- 
ally obtained a hold upon my too yielding 
husband ; and occasionally he accepted an 
invitation out. 

Their influence began to tell. Business 
was neglected. His attentions to me as- 
sumed a little less of the lover-like. 

About this time I lost heavily through 
the unforeseen, and as it affected me, dis- 
honorable failure of parties with whom, dur- 
ing my widowhood, I had intrusted consid- 
erable property. 

Misfortune with some, works just the re- 
verse of what might be expected, or of what 
it ought ! 

So ours, instead of retarding the evil, but 
brought it the more surely and rapidly 
upon us. 

Gustave became more than ever addicted 



MY CREED. I49 

to the use of intoxicating drink ; and in his 
insane desire to drown trouble — attached 
himself to a set of associates — of the 
" most approved brand," to lead a genial, 
impulsive young man to his utter ruin. 

"Josh Billings!" — thou art a Prophet! 
" if one commences to go down hill, every- 
thing is greased for that particular occa- 
sion ! 

About this time, also, was initiated the 
one — I correct myself — the two, great 
financial errors of my life. 

" To raise the sinews of war," I placed 
myself in the power of a Loan Office ; no 
— not a Loan Office — a Vampire ; who 
sucked the very last drop of my heart's 
blood — with all the unconcern of a fox — 
contemplating his savory morsel — the be- 
wildered chicken — he holds in his paws ! " 

" To raise the sinews of war," I placed 
myself in the power of friends ; obtaining 
help here and there — hoped to stave off" 



I50 AN A UTOBIO GRA PHY. 

impending disaster — and in time, by aid of 
said help, retrieve all. 

Delusive hope ! 

To-day, rather should Executors take 
every dollar ; the Sheriff every " household 
god ; " I — calmly gathering my garments, 
and emphasizing every note of 

" Shoo ! Fly ; don't bother me " — 

would walk into the most comfortable Poor 
House I could find — take the best room 
the law allowed — and, 

" Folding the drapery of my couch about me, 
Lie down to pleasant dreams." 



CHAPTER XXVI. 
boston's female broker. 

" Until for surface sweetness, thou too art drawn adown the 
vortex." 

People said I was smart ! I was : a lit- 
tle too smart : so I " pitched in " — to spec- 
ulation ! 

I didn't walk in — nor run in — I pitched 
in; and came down head first, in which in- 
teresting position I have been ever since. 

Permit me to explain. 

Bewailing my losses, it flashed over me 
one day that by furnishing and sub-letting 
dwellings, I might do a pretty good thing. 

Besides — I was anxious to become — 
a broker ! a female broker ! ! Boston's Fe- 
male Broker ! ! ! 



152 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



With gain and ambition in view, I pro- 
ceeded to hire a couple of houses at either 
end of a well known street ; so that — 
whatever custom the one failed to get going 
up — the other could catch coming down. 

I was fortunate in persons to run the 
same ; and plumed myself no little on my 
sharp arrangements ; was particular — that 
whatever leases I took should secure me 
from all loss ; and was equally careful — 
in those I gave. 

Of course I charged a stiff price ; wasn't 
that the most important part of the busi- 
ness ? 

Making up my mind not to bother ; not 
to see, in fact, my tenants ; only as from 
time to time I collected my rent, I sailed 
off in rather an airy frame of mind. 

All went well. I began to be encour- 
aged. 

From the house at the " upper end " I re- 
ceived my first month's pay. 



BOSTON'S FEMALE BROKER. 153 

That was square ; but I guess it took all 
the poor woman could rake and scrape ; for 
when I called at the end of the next month 
— she had gone 

" Where the Woodbine twineth." 

The house had changed hands three times ; 
and each lot had set up housekeeping on 
their "own hook," well supplied with my 
furniture, beds and bedding ! 

It then occurred to me, it would pay to 
look after furnished houses oftener than 
once a month. 

" But I had still a " forlorn hope." The 
person at the " lower end ; " no sooner had 
she taken possession, however, than the fur- 
nace, which had faithfully done duty any 
number of years, gave out. 

Generously, I immediately put a new one 
in its place at my own expense — privately 
thinking all the while — my landlord should 
foot that little bill. 

I had reckoned without my host. 

" Not for Joe ! O, no, no!" 



154 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



nor for me ; and it took precisely the money 
I had received from the other house to set 
this one going ! 

So it went on. If those two houses had 
been sworn partners, they could not have 
played better into each other's hands. 

" Paul paid Peter " ; and " Peter paid 
Paul " ; until there was nothing left to 
pay either " Peter '' or " Paul " ! 

Distracted, I threw them both on to the 
market ! 

Napoleon, after his disasters, gathered 
himself and risked his final throw upon 
Waterloo. 

The " Oakes Ames Co." suspended ; but 
with shovel in hand, have resumed their 
digging. 

/ too, was on my mettle ! 

It was still my determination to spec- 
ulate ; in Howard — not State Street. I 
have been told there is a difference ; do not 
confound them — Howard Street — if you 
please ! 



BOSTON'S FEMALE BROKER. 155 

I outdid myself; and with unusual sa- 
gacity selected a house completely out of 
order from top to bottom. 

We commenced this time at the top. 

In dull times, set workmen to repair and 
there is no knowing where they will end. 
I have consulted competent judges, and 
they tell me there is not a tighter roof in 
all Boston. 

An underpinning is considered desirable. - 
That was attended to. 

The first person after the premises was 
an Irishwoman, of the better class ; who 
was all ready to come right in with a large 
family of boarders, about sixty I think; 
hard-working men; who must have their 
meals three times a day; at just such an 
hour ; to the minute. 

The range would not go ! I saw it my- 
self ; not a potato could be coaxed to bake, 
not a sausage to fry ; and right before 
the face and eyes of those sixty hungry 



156 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



wretches, waiting for their dinner, the old 
thing was marched off, and a new stove set 
up ! 

Outside repairs, mine. Inside, hers. 

Poor soul ! the expense came hard on her 
the first month ; and as she didn't say any- 
thing about the rent, / couldn't find it in 
my heart to mention it. 

I let it slip ! 

The second and third month it slipped ! 

I slipped, too ! 

But at the end of the fourth month, I 
had the satisfaction of slipping her — bag 
and baggage — stove and boarders — on to 
the sidewalk ! 

My investments were exciting, if not 
profitable. 

The " real estate " business was getting 
red-hot ! 

I longed for the wilderness ; for some far- 
off, lone isle. 

I would have married Robinson Crusoe 
on the spot. 



BOSTON'S FEMALE BROKER. 157 

No such relief was at hand ; and walking 
right through the ingenious theories of 
Lucy Stone — Susan B. Anthony — and 
Antoinette Brown — I precipitately retired ; 
not with "honors thick about me," but 
with dishonored notes so filling the air, I 
couldn't see my way home. 

Never again shall the " Siren Song " of 
" Female Ability " induce me to run with 
my brother financier — as rival contestant 
for the prize — money. 

No ! Leaving him legitimately to make 
— I will agree, quite as fast, in the most 
ladv-like manner — to spend it ! 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

OLLA PODRIDA. 
'* Many thoughts, many thoughts — who can catch them all ? " 

Matters now began to look dark indeed. 
Everything I touched went under. How- 
ever much advice and acute judgment 
were brought to bear, each investment fell 
through. 

With the same implicit faith I put in the 
words of Mr. " Billings," do I believe grease 
— at that period — entered largely into my 
own composition ; or I never could, in every 
case, have gone down so rapidly and — so 
slick ! 

A change became absolutely necessary. 

We could remain no longer in R Street. 

Debts increased every day; credit grew 



OLLA POD RID A. 



159 



* beautifully less " ; Gustave's dissipated hab- 
its more confirmed. Friends turned the cold 
shoulder with the cheerful remark, " I told 
you so ! " — and under these exhilarating cir- 
cumstances — I made another move. 

My Evil Genius, never for one moment 
caught napping, led me into N Street. 

What could I do in N Street ? 

I looked around. My situation was des- 
perate. I recalled with distrust the horri- 
ble old house in Howard Street; the fur- 
nished house in Harrison Avenue ; the 
lodging-house in Washington Street; and 
concluded in N Street, by way of vari- 
ety, to start a boarding-house. 

I had been in New York — and came 
home determined to engraft the best qual- 
ities of those dashing institutions — upon 
the milder outcroppings of the same here. 

Now you may advertise until the " Her- 
ald " retires, rich upon the profit of your in- 
vestment, and not fill your house. 



l6o AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I just did this ; wrote in a fine, lady-like 
hand " Furnished Rooms to let " — " Table 
Boarders wanted" — and genteelly pasted 
the notice outside my door. 

There is fashion in the width ; two inches 
there; four inches here. In reckless ex- 
penditure of paper, Boston goes New York 
double ! 

My table rapidly filled up. 

It did me good to look upon that long 
line of thin forms, rounding each day at my 
expense. 

Little did I think I was filling up a set of 
half-starved boarders — who, as soon as they 
got a streak of fat — would make for more 
aristocratic quarters. 

It is one peculiarity of this business. All 
new boarding-houses go through the same 
ordeal. I have changed locality five times 
— and know! 

Now — lam posted; the minute I clap 
my eyes on an " applicant," I can tell how 
much he will hold — to a biscuit ! 



OLLA PODRIDA. l6l 

I had partaken of so much hash myself, 
that when I first commenced, I couldn't find 
it in my heart to offer it to a stranger. 

I call upon you — O, my boarders! — 
first and last, seventy-five in number ; from 
your scattered homes, answer me ! Did I 
oftener than seven times a week set before 
you, in its decent proportions of meat and 
potato, that much abused dish ? 

Be genteel or die ! I followed this to the 
letter ; so of course — gentlemen — " only ! " 

Whoever heard of a genteel boarding- 
house harboring women ? 

Young ladies are "fuss and feathers;" 
and married ladies — well! — "Don't you 
think my dear there is a falling off in Miss 
Jones' table ? — hadn't we better be looking 
out ? " 

Give me men ! I say it boldly ; you can 
impose upon them ; you can't upon women ! 

How some boarders entwine themselves 



1 62 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

around the affections ! Parting, is like tak- 
ing your heart's blood ; and leaving behind 
them a blank, they go ; bearing that most 
sacred of trusts, an unpaid board bill ; with 
butter at fifty cents the pound ! 

Mine have " entwined," often. Here is a 
case in point. 

I once lodged and fed a party of " Pro- 
fessionals." It seems but as yesterday. 
Didn't they make times lively? Their 
names are engraven on my heart — and on 
my slate — for three left, owing me thirty- 
six dollars ! 

The fourth ! Let me do him exact jus- 
tice. 

From the fashionable time in the morn- 
ing — when, alone, he ate his aristocratic 
breakfast of one egg and a slice of toast — 
all through the day ; up to the hour of hid- 
ing his handsome face under a " mask of 
color;" and with his witticisms throwing the 
" house " into convulsions ; he was a perfect 
gentleman. 



OLLA PODRIDA. 163 

Pleasant to all ; prompt to pay ; a very 
small eater ; he was indeed a model boarder. 
But — by that eternal law of compensation 
following a landlady the world over — the 
man who sat next him, ate his weight three 
times a day ! 

I have hinted that my domestic education 
had been somewhat neglected. 

Still, I knew a thing or two — and what 
I did know — I never intrusted to others. 

It became necessary to transfer the feath- 
ers from an old bed, to a new. 

Waiting for a rainy day, that I might be 
secure from the interruption of calls, I shut 
myself up in a small room with 'my two 
ticks. 

Mother had told me it was a good plan 
to leave part of each open — and inserting 
one into the other — gently force the feath- 
ers from the old to the new. 

I was not to be trammeled with any such 
half-way idea ! 



I 64 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I ripped open one entire end, and boldly 
emptied the feathers. 

Whew ! I was in for it ! 

Nothing daunted, with both hands I went 
to work. The day passed on. The job 
was finished. But myself! — 

From the crown of my head to the sole 
of my foot — feathers ! 

Eyes, nose, mouth, ears, hair, eyebrows 
— feathers ! 

Like Nebuchadnezzar, I emerged : thank- 
ful for the next three months — to go to 
grass ! 

Gentility said, colored help ! I submitted. 
My prime minister, Samuel Adams, was as 
black as the Ace of Spades. 

Like all prime ministers, he ruled. I 
was a mere puppet — useful on Saturday 
nights — to " pay off." 

He would notify me when he intended to 
go out " perzactly ; " but failed to • " put in 
an appearance " when expected home. 



OLLA POD RID A. 1 65 

He was musical — no matter what was 
up — negro melodies came " in at the 
death ! " 

He had a girl — more than that — he 
had a new suit of clothes. One night he 
took his girl and his clothes to a concert. 
Light pants and vest; dark coat, to match 
his skin ; sleeve-buttons, he sent for me to 
put them in ; and may I never see a rose- 
bud, if he didn't have one in his button- 
hole ! 

During his engagement at the Howard 
Athenaeum I boarded Pfau, the Russian 
gymnast. 

It was Sam's ambition to rival him. 

Awakened one morning by a shuffling 
sound, I stole softly down. He had ar- 
ranged his apparatus — consisting of a rope 
swung in the wood-shed — and I caught 
him in the very act of making his fearful 
leap, from the top stair of the back steps to 
the hen-coop ! 



1 66 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

If he had missed his footing, he would 
have fallen just three feet, four inches. 

In the matter of food he was fastidious. 
Eggs he couldn't bear the sight of — I had 
nine hens and one rooster — and I never 
saw an tgg while Sam was in the house ! 

But the milk! that corn he acknowl- 
edged ; and if he couldn't go out as wet 
nurse, it was not because he had no milk ! 

One colored brother will do, but five ! 
My kitchen was the " blackness of dark- 
ness." I couldn't see through it ! 

The next experiment was not much more 
satisfactory. All white, to be sure ; that 
was something in the way of looks ! I felt 
too, that somehow the dinner would come 
on to the table ; but at what a sacrifice 
of the " raw material." And " back-door 
friends " was a disagreeable feature — ne- 
cessitating the appointment of a " Vigilance 
Committee " — if the saving of cold victuals 
was any object. 



OLLA POD RID A. 1 67 

But trying to mingle the Hibernian and 
African in the way of help — I am free to 
confess — was the most unmitigated failure 
of all. 

They were set like a flint against each 
other. In attempting to elicit one spark of 
united assistance, I only set fire to myself. 

" Gentlemen ! I put the question ! " Can 
the mistress of a boarding -house know any- 
thing outside her kitchen ? Above all — can 
she be expected to improve her mind ? to 
read ? — dear me ! one eye on the sugar 
and the other on the spoons, where 's her 
chance ? 

Descending from the literary stand-point, 
I suppose there is no gainsaying that some 
houses, in spite the hindrances, do succeed ; 
and the landladies thereof — rising, Phce- 
nix-like, above the perplexity of help ; the 
inconvenience of loss ; smiling and popular 
— wear pink ribbons ! 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

PANDEMONIUM. 

" How have I sinned that this affliction 

Should light so heavy on me ? ' ' 

" In the scene that ensued 
I did not take a hand. " 

I had discovered pink was not my color 
I always wore black ; and in mourning, 
would prefer to drop the curtain ; leave to 
imagination the " after- piece ; " but inex- 
orable Truth compels me to go on. 

Our house was large ; the expense of fur- 
nishing had been heavy. The locality too, 
was unfortunate ; still, at first, as I have 
said, there appeared to be no difficulty in 
getting 'boarders, hungry table boarders; 
and I flatter myself that alone, I could have 
made this last experiment pay. 



PANDEMONIUM. 169 

But alone, I was not suffered to engineer. 

A candle, about to expire, flares up with 
unexpected brilliancy. 

Curiously enough this original metaphor, 
coupled with the equally original " saw ; " 
" What is sauce for a goose, is sauce for a 
gander ; " will admirably apply to me, the 
goose ; and to Gustave, the gander. 

I was about to expire financially — (pity 
I hadn't sooner ! ) — and collected myself for 
a last flicker. 

Gustave was about to wind up his dissi- 
pated term, and gathered his forces for a last 
" free blow." 

To that end — he established a bar! — 
though I went down on my knees to beg off 
from that. 

I found it took ready money to get in a 
stock of liquors. 

Dealers in the infernal stuff know their 
power ; and whatever other bills are dishon- 
ored ; theirs are paid at sight. 



170 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



Their books, to the interest of their pie 
thoric pockets, present accounts well posted 
and paid up. 

Smarting under this fact, I am happy in 
the thought, that one day there will be 
thrust before their astonished eyes a pri- 
vate memoranda, that will require all their 
wits to settle ; though assisted by Satan him 
self — head bookkeeper — located there! 

The bar went on — ignored by the better 
class of my boarders — who soon ignored 
the house, also. 

But many, young and inexperienced, at- 
tracted by the cheerful, well-lighted room, 
found their way thither ; and far into the 
night the rattling of dice, and the uncork- 
ing of bottles, fell upon my listening ear. 

Did I say Jealousy, as a bane to domestic 
peace, stands unrivaled ? 
I retract ! 
My views are liberal. I believe in good 



PANDEMONIUM. \ 7 1 

hard-shell Baptists ; and in good Hottentots 
I believe good may result from the awful 
crime of murder ; and that good may come 
of the African slave-trade. 

But, accursed liquor ! in thee there is no 
good. Emanating from hell — through and 
through, from top to bottom — thou art one, 
unmitigated Evil ! 

By love of thee ; the most gifted — be- 
come driveling. The most genial — mo- 
rose. The most loving — demoniac. 

To unhallowed thirst for thee ; accursed 
liquor! God, wife, children, friends, home, 
clothes, food, self-respect and life, all are sac- 
rificed ; and underneath the ceaseless roll 
of thy wheels, O, thrice accursed liquor ! 
more are crushed than ever fell before the 
triumphal car of the Indian Juggernaut ! 

Why, upon me and mine, had descended 
the fell destroyer ? 

From infancy, I had abominated this foul 
outcropping of total depravity. 



172 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



My father before me, had lost thousands 
because of not offering, at a dinner party on 
board his ship, the hateful thing, to a person 
addicted to its use, who never forgave the 
slight ! 

But come it did, with all its attendant 
train of degrading humiliations. 

To the theatrical profession I am indebted 
for many pleasant hours. 

I am an extravagant admirer of the " Le- 
gitimate Drama ; " and in my palmy days, 
was a liberal patron of the same. 

But geologically speaking there is a lower 
strata ; and that found its way to Gustave's 
" free blow." 

It must have been a hungry strata ; for 
each day, to. the music of the bell, a string 
of those Bohemians formed themselves in 
order of march from the " bar " to my dinner- 
table ; led off by that prince of dead-heads 
— Monsieur Antoine Tournais — who had 



PANDEMONIUM. 173 

managed to fasten himself upon Gustave 
with all the tenacity of a drowning man. 

" Entre nous" it is my private opinion he 
would have been drowned long ago, only he 
was so thoroughly soaked with brandy, there 
was no room for water ! 

In return for Gustave's hospitality, he 
volunteered to distribute some advertising 
bills. 

I do not know whether he had a shirt to 
his back, but I do know he had a pair of 
white gloves ; with which, and his eternal 
" pardonnez madanze" he electrified the fe- 
male help who answered, as he went from 
door to door, his aristocratic ring. 

I certainly consider that man, with his 
slippers and white stockings, and a monkey, 
borrowed a few days to lend additional style, 
at once the disgrace and ornament of this 
model bar ! 

" Requiescat in pace? I hope his friends 
have found a use for that epitaph, and that 
— poor fellow — he is indeed at rest. 



174 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



I am now speaking of Monsieur Antoine 
Tournais, not of his friend, the monkey ! 

All housekeepers know that cooks like a 
cup of that which " cheers, but not inebri- 
ates ; " and like it strong too ! 

My cooks reversed Cowper's apologetic 
idea ; and absolutely required a cup of that 
which, however much it " inebriated " them, 
failed to " cheer " me. 

We had dinner, as Sam said, " perzactly " 
at twelve o'clock. 

One day, during the black and white ep- 
isode, about half-past eleven, my pastry cook 
— white — took herself and her inebriating 
facilities bodily out of the house ; and I have 
not laid eyes on her since ; when she knew 
that my meat cook — black — was up in her 
attic on a three days' drunk ! 

" But the hands that were played 
By that heathen Chinee, 
And the points that were made 
Were quite frightful to see." 



PANDEMONIUM. 175 

The wind is tempered to the shorn lamb 
— or the shorn lamb is tempered to the 
wind — as I am not quoting Scripture, I 
forget which. 

N^importe. 

There never was a shorn lamb born, that 
could walk up to the wind I had to face ; 
and there never was a wind blew, that my 
temperature was not put to its test ! 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

INFERNO. 

*• And so he drinks the more and damns himself — 
Then drinks again, and sleeps and wakes and raves." 

"Woe is me, that I 'sojourn in Mesech, 
That I dwell in the tents of Kedar ! " 

A rush from the bed to the door — and 
" Sam ! " uttered in stentorian voice — rings 
through the house ! 

Sam appears ; goes to the chimney-piece ; 
takes therefrom an empty bottle ; disap- 
pears ; and returns it filled to the same 
place. 

This scene has been repeated many 
times, every day, for one week. If I told 
the truth, I should say three. 

Gustave, not to mince the matter, is on a 
drunk. 



INFERNO 



177 



Will he ever be on anything else ? 

I have misused the word. You cannot 
get him drunk. 

He is on a drink ; and he will challenge 
you to that, until you drop. 

The pure juice of the grape, I have no 
doubt, is a very delectable article. 

When freely used, even in remote ages, it 
no further " set up " Noah ; than to make 
him father the sons of Ham ! No further 
" set up " the rather an - eye - to-the-main- 
chance, young man, Lot ; than to bring out 
his harmless joke, that his old, salt wife had 
no objection to his taking to his bosom a 
young, fresh one! No further "set up" 
Abraham's wife, Sarai; than to make her 
tell two outrageous lies ; and beat Hagar al- 
most to death into the bargain ! 

The pure juice of the grape nowadays, 
is grown in hell; and whosoever imbibes 
the brimstone mixture there pressed, goes 



12 



I78 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

through a series of antics initiated in that 
hot clime. 

Thus, with Gustave. 

To this day I am in doubt, and cannot 
pronounce, whether I prefer the phase of 
the driveling, tear-shedding, maudlin, hard 
drinker ; or the free-fight, knock-down-and- 
drag-out development ! 

I ought to be a judge. My brother was 
the one ; my husband the other. 

With the first, my life was safe ; but the 
experience — sickeningly enervating. 

With the last, my life was in danger ; but 
the experience — inspiringly exciting. 

Upon the cat-love-the-mouse principle, 
Gustave always insisted having me in sight 
when a " spree " was on him ; and his " in- 
sist," I could not dodge. 

After drinking, tossing, and tumbling; 
tumbling, tossing, and drinking, until appar- 
ently exhausted ; he had fallen into an un- 
easy, fitful slumber. 



INFERNO. 1 79 

All was quiet. 

By and by he slightly stirred. Pitying, I 
approached to bathe his head; and softly 
laid my cool hand upon his burning fore- 
head. 

Quicker than thought he dashed it from 
him. 

" Away with your d d hand ! Never 

you dare, vile woman, to touch me again ! " 

" But, Gustave ! it is me, your wife." 

" D- n ! you are no wife of mine. 

Go finish your talk with Mr. F . You 

can't deceive me, try your best ; what I see, 
I know. My eye is upon you — my fine 
bird — and this time you won't escape ! " 

" Gustave ! I have not spoken one word 
to Mr. F — -for" — 

" Go to h— 1 ! I wouldn't take your Bible 
oath that you haven't made arrangements 
to go off together. You man seducer! 
Don't you attempt to fool me ; but if it 
costs me my life, I '11 cut short your little 
game ! " 



1 80 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I saw what was coming, in the jealous 
frenzy to which he had now wrought him- 
self, and sprang for the door. 

He was there before me. He had locked 
it; and holding the key at arm's length, 
brandished it triumphantly over my head. 

How handsome he was in his mad 
wrath ! 

So looked " Lucifer," " Son of the Morn- 
ing ; " when, fallen, he announced in solemn 
conclave, his choice to 

" Reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven." 

"You thought you would go for your 
lover, did you ? Perhaps you will, when I 
am dead; but that won't be till I've fin- 
ished you. I'll not leave you, with your 
paramour, to gloat over my ruin. If it 
hadn't been for you, devilish deceiver ! I 
should never have drank a drop. You have 
driven me to it ; and now I'll pour down 
the cursed stuff till I'm mad, ha! ha!" 



INFERNO, 1 8 1 

" Gustave ! Gustave ! in mercy to your 
self" — 

u Don't ' Gustave 'me! To you, Madame, 
I am Monsieur Chaudet Running away 
from me, were you ? that won't pay ; look 
here! my beauty!" 

And dragging me before the mirror ; that 
I might see, as well as feel ; he pressed both 
hands tightly over my mouth and nose. 

I could not breathe. I was suffocating. 
I gave one despairing glance ; my face was 
purple; my eyes were starting from their 
sockets 

God in Heaven ! mine hour had come ! 

Swifter than the passage of light the 
prayer, " Forsake me not," went up, with 
the faith of the dying, into the very ear of 
the Omnipresent; and brought down in- 
stant relief. 

The hands relaxed their hold — and I 
was again numbered with the living ! 

" Gustave ! Gustave ! you would kill me 
with your own hand ! " 



1 8 2 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" Kill you, my darling, precious wife! 
I'd like to find myself — or any other per- 
son — laying the weight of their finger 
upon you." 

Was the man in his senses ? 

Didn't he know that Murder had almost 
branded his soul ? 

" Gustave ! dear Gustave ! I implore you 
to lie down. You need rest. Let me open 
the door ? I must go out from here, indeed 
I must ! " 

" Indeed you mustn't ; and by Heaven ! 

you won't. Going after your Mr. F , 

were you ? H 1 and d n ! The 

handsomest man in State Street, eh! — 
4 How is that for high ? ' My memory is 
good" — 

" O, Gustave ! give me that key ? " 

" D — n you ! sit down in that chair ; 
and if you value your life, don't move." 

" O ! but I am nearly dead. I must have 
air;" — and mortal fright overcoming my 
dread of him, I shrieked for " help ! help ! " 



INFERNO. 183 

" Didn't I tell you not to move ? D — n 
your soul to h— 1 ! take that " — and a blow, 
heavy and unerring, descended upon my 
devoted head. 

White, as the sheeted dead, I faced my 
foe. 

Thus far, only Fear had influenced me ; 
but now, every passion was let loose. 

Sorrow, Pity, Love, Hatred ; and high 
over all revenge; a burning thirst for re- 
venge, upon the infatuated, lost Gustave. 

Had my strength equaled my will, the 
powdered dust of his " mother earth " would 
never have recognized her own ! 

Had I held the thunderbolts of Jove ! 

A man, younger than myself! 

A man, for whom I had sacrificed so 
much! 

A man, to strike me, a woman ! 

Me, his wife ! 

Me, in whose veins coursed the blood of 
five hundred aristocrats ! but every drop of 
which was now like molten lead. 



1 84 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

My whole being was in arms ! 

Single-handed I could have fought Satan. 

I had not only Satan, but for the time 
being, his prime minister, Gustave. 

It was two to one ! 

Benumbed alike, with the blow upon my 
head ; and with the blow upon my heart ; 
living — I sank to the floor — as one that 
was dead. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE HEGIRA. 

"So I saw despondency was death, and flung my burdens from 

me." 

u They were so queer, so very queer, 

I laughed as I would die. " 

Meantime — 

" ' Midst the wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds " — 

I held on to my reason. Poor me ! It was 
about all I had to hold on to ; except — my 
Saratoga trunk ! 

That I packed ; and one Sunday, secretly 
left in the evening train for New York; 
leaving my planet, " without let or hind- 
rance," to roll on, or go to smash, amid her 
sister spheres. 

It is the evening of the day I arrived ; 
bright and cool. 



1 86 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I really feel the need of recreation ; and 
putting aside " Cooper Institute " facilities 
— " Shakespearian Readings" — "Operatic 
Librettos " — I am going to the Circus : the 
New York, Fourteenth Street, Circus. 

I want to hear "Williams" sing; see 
" Stickney " ride ; exercise my mind over 
" Billy Button ; " as he tumbles into the 
ring ; scrabbles on to his horse ; throws off 
coats — vests — pants — boots — and ap- 
pears before my dilating eyes — a first-class 
rider — radiant in scarlet and gold ! 

I am on my way ! Want to know how I 
look ? dark green, poplin dress ; black vel- 
vet sack ; with one geranium leaf — one 
tuberose — one verbena — stuck in the 
button-hole. 

That bouquet is stereotyped. No one 
ever saw me at the Fourteenth Street 
Circus without it. 

I anticipate the cheerful salutation and 
exclaim, " We are all here ; hope you are 
well, Mr. Clown!" 



THE HEGIRA. 187 

The Band strikes up. I am ears and 
eyes. 

Here they come ; in the systematic con- 
fusion of the " Grand Entree." 

Gallant men; fair women; gayly capar- 
isoned horses ; true to your paces in the 
mazy intricacies of the sprightly waltz. 

The " glamour " over, I pick my Knight. 

Pale face — fair hair — slight, muscular 
figure — long limbs — (he will use all their 
length by and by in his famous " Four in 
Hand ; " ) showing beneath the Andalusian 
mantle an occasional glimpse of his colors 

— blue and fawn ; and his horse ? — light 

— but " with very little of the Arabian — 
my dear sir ! " — give you his picture. 

What have we here ? " Plantation Bit- 
ters," with two crosses — XX — kicked 
about in this shape ? regardless of cost ; and 
always upwards ? — never a fall ; give the 
law of gravitation a chance, and send these 
Bitters after it. O, the barrels are empty ? 



l88 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

all right ! — go ahead ! — but do Mr. " Lev* 
antine " make one mistake ; or I shall think 
you hail from " Tartarus ; " and for morn- 
ing pastime have taken a foot practice with 
" Beelzebub ! " 

" Whoa, January ! " — Will that man and 
his establishment be the death of me ? 
Shall I have a chance at another meal? 

If I was a boy ! — if I was a darkey ! if I 
was only anything, that could spread right 
out, and scream ! 

" Whoa, January ! " you are " Whoad " 
with a vengeance ; and to start either wag- 
on, nag, or driver, is beyond all save the 
Pony, that opportunely comes to the res- 
cue, and backs the precious trio out of sight. 

The music changes. 

Here you are my little lady! with your 
brief, gossamer skirts. 

That is right ; make your courtesy to the 
expectant crowd. 

I kiss you my hand ! 



THE HEGIRA. 1 89 

The " ring master " awaits your dainty 
foot. Spring lightly to your saddle ; not 
that — " as to the manor born " — spring 
lightly to the bare back of your impatient 
steed. 

Away ! white robe — pink shoulder knots 

— trailing flowers — in the rapid whirl — 
are but as the changes of a Kaleidoscope. 

Away ! right through the twelve hoops, 
placed to stay your flight. 

Bravo ! you have well won the tumultu- 
ous applause. 

Bravo ! again. With thoughts intent 
upon that " Aerial Feat " — there is no one 
I should so like to be this night — as 
" Madame Carotene Roland ! " 

Hurra ! for the " Blue and Fawn ; " as 

— with the rush of the wind — " Stick- 
ney's " " Four in Hand " sweeps past ; 
guided by his masterly skill. 

From my distant seat / catch his " allez ! " 
hissed between his teeth ; and instantly rec- 



I9O AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ognizing the voice his coursers quicken — 
if possible — their already lightning speed. 

Now, gathering his reins — the panting 
'four" are side by side — and over all 
hovers the graceful form of the daring 
rider ! 

Now, throwing up his reins — and lightly 
balancing himself upon one foot on the 
" leader " — the loosened " four " dash 
wildly around the arena. 

" One stormy gust of long suspended ahs ! 
One whirlwind chaos of insane hurras ! " 

But " au revoir? I will put my "ver- 
bena " — my " tuberose " — my " geranium 
leaf" into water — and come again to-mor- 
row night. 

Being somewhat acquainted, I had gone 
directly to the hospitable house of a quon- 
dam landlady. 

I found her neatly arrayed in a brown 
silk ; narrow pink ribbons floating from her 



THE HEGIRA. 191 

stylish head-dress ; and a rich, pink bow, 
of most approved dimensions, at her throat. 

Noticing my mourning, but relieved to 
learn that none of my immediate friends 
were dead, she entered into friendly talk; 
and suggested, for our mutual enjoyment, 
several little excursions. 

Remember ! I had two distinct natures ; 
and that " fair play is a jewel." 

The gloomy and sad had been indulged 
long enough ; if I expected to preserve the 
balance of power — or more truthfully 
speaking — the balance of reason ; so I fell 
in with her plans. 

With my dressy friend — and the joyous 
half of my " personelle " — I had, for the 
next ten days, a right down good time. 

I would not think of home — positive 
" Nemesis " would be on my track only too 
soon — and my flight avenged ! 

We often rode round " Central Park" — 
twenty-five cents apiece for the whole dis- 
tance — thanks to the new arrangement. 



tg2 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

We often sailed down to " Staten Island " 
— ten cents each way — and in this rational, 
economical mode, passed many a happy 
day. 

" On old Long Island's sea-girt shore, 
Many an hour I've whiled away ; 
Listening to the breakers' roar, 
That wash the beach at Rockaway." 

There came a telegram. They were sick. 

Who was sick, I wondered ? 

That afternoon, in the most unconcerned 
manner, I took another turn at "Central 
Park." 

There came a second telegram. They 
were very sick. 

Who was very sick, I wondered ? 

That day I steamed down to "Staten 
Island," in a perfectly tranquil state of mind. 

When I had " touched bottom " — it oc- 
cupied me longer than it did " Gail Ham- 
ilton " (for my own convenience), I turned 
my face homewards. 



THE HEGIRA. 



1 93 



The bar had disappeared. Carpet and 
furniture had converted it into a comfort- 
able-sitting room. 

The two large parlors made one grand 
dining-room ; where waiters by the score, 
flying round like mad, were serving custom- 
ers at forty cents a head ! 

Without an allusion to the past, I was 
humbly requested, as Cashier, to step into 
that exciting establishment — known in 
Boston — as the " Narragansett House." 
*3 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE GRAND FINALE. 

" I cannot add — I will not steal ; enough, for all is spoken." 

" For the things 
Concerning me have an end." 

It was Gustave who was sick. It was 
Gustave who was very sick; of his liquor 
— of his bar — of himself ! 

I trace the incipient, embryo purpose of 
reformation to my strategetic " Hegira." 

My influence again somewhat reinstated, 
I set myself steadily to reform many 
abuses ; dismissed a gang of " Cormorants " 
in the shape of " hangers on " and " help ; " 
retrenched in every way ; looked right sharp 
after affairs ; and if Gustave had even now 
taken a complete turn round, we might, 



THE GRAND FINALE. 195 

after all our mishaps, have in a measure 
saved ourselves. 

But he was a boon companion, and could 
not be spared from his set 

He was generous; and fell into the too 
common error of being so at other peoples' 
expense; so that, the little I had left — 
dwindled to less ; and it became evident 
everything must go. 

I will be just to him, though I impli- 
cate myself. 

If from the first I had been more decided 
— held to my " rights " — a good deal of 
subsequent "unpleasantness" might have 
been avoided; but I was naturally confid- 
ing, and hard experience alone, will re- 
move that weakness. 

He who begins by trusting everybody, 
ends by trusting none ! 

If ever, in the flesh, I do get hold of a 
cent — well ! — " nous verrons" 

I was now in the condition of " Micaw- 
ber," waiting for " something to turn up." 



I96 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Unlike that renowned man, I was not 
disappointed. 

Something did " turn up " — 

A keeper was put in; with strict orders 
not to leave the premises without the 
money in his pocket! 

" Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did 
eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me." — Psalms 
adi. 9. 

For the benefit of those who have never 
had such companionship foisted upon them 
— let me state ; that the security of a re- 
spectable Toad, under a harrow, is Elysian 
compared with it. 

Lynx-eyed, sitting where he could com- 
mand "the situation," not one thing escaped 
his notice. 

I drank my very tea in fear and trem- 
bling, lest there should be a " slip between 
the cup and my lip." 

Miraculously disposing of that " Incu- 
bus," I rushed to our principal creditor, and 



THE GRAND FINALE. IQf 

begged him, for the love of Heaven, to come 
down and put such an attachment on the 
place, as would wind up that, myself, and 
everybody concerned. 

This he did ; and in an inconceivably 
short space of time — considering the num- 
ber of articles to be touched by the magic 
wand of going ! going ! gone ! — everything 
I owned in the world, for the second time, 
under the hammer of a voluble auctioneer, 
was knocked down to the highest bidder ! 

I actually felt relieved. 

I had reached the last round of the lad- 
der; but one more step and I should kiss 
my " mother earth." 

That spectacle was in reserve. 

Not being " woman's rights," I never 
made a public speech. 

Going back eighteen months, I wish I 
could assemble every individual I owe in 
this wide world, and say unto them — 



I98 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" Gentlemen ! — I am a woman ; and as 
such, have the meanest possible opinion of 
my capacity to transact business. 

" My mother erred ; in that, she did not 
learn me to cook. 

" ' The devil finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do.' 

" If I had been a good cook, I should not 
have been a poor financier. 

" You are the victims of her unfortunate 
mistake. 

" I owe you collectively a, good deal of 
money. I have not one cent wherewith to 
repay. 

" I throw myself upon your mercy. 

" I am going to New York to hide my 
humiliating defeat — and am indebted to 
the kindness of a friend — for a free pass 
thereto. Farewell." 



CHAPTER XXXII. 
RESURGAM. 

" And all in sympathy with thee, tremble with tumultuous emo- 
tions." 



The broken-down of all nations congre- 
gate in New York. 

To that conglomerate centre I accord- 
ingly wended my ardent steps. 

I had now my "free pass" — and my 
clothes. .- 

The " pass " was taken up in my transit. 
My clothes I expected to meet on my ar- 
rival. 

They were not there ! 

I had sent them on in care of Gustave, 
who had preceded me. He had gone into 
business, and had raised his share of the 
partnership money — upon them ! 



2CO AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

The last round in the ladder slipped out ; 
my feet flew up ; I came down flat on my 
back. 

I HAD NOTHING 

Quite agreed with u Dick Swiveller" that 
an umbrella would be something ; but my 
umbrella was invested in — a Bleecker 
Street restaurant! 

Poor Gustave! He had hoped through 
successful custom to make good my loss, 
before I discovered it. 

But the old, uncontrollable habit got the 
upper hand. His business, as usual, proved 
a failure; and my best clothes still grace 
the shelves of a Prince Street pawnbroker! 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE CANAL STREET PAWN SHOP. 

" Which I wish to remark — 

And my language is plain — 
That for ways that are dark 

And for tricks that are vain, 
The heathen Chinee is peculiar. 
Which the same I would rise to explain." 

The account of Dr. Kane's explorations 
in the ice-bound region of the North is in- 
teresting ; because — it is true. 

The account of Dr. Livingstone's travels 
in the burning region of the South is inter- 
esting ; because — it is true. 

This chapter will be interesting ; because 
— it is true. 

I had three choice articles of wearing ap- 
parel left. 



202 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I was hungry. They must go to sat- 
isfy that hunger; and after shedding tears 
enough over each separate piece to start a 
reasonable Niobe in a fair business, I set 
out. 

What was the use of dodging so many 
corners ? wearing myself to death trying to 
deceive people ? 

My landlady knew everything in that bun- 
dle just as well as I did. How suspiciously 
she eyed me as I passed out ; for all I took 
such good care to keep my plump figure 
between it and her. 

And the policeman on the corner ; didn't 
he know just as well as 1^- who tied up the 
things — that within the thick paper, so 
carefully done up, was my muff? — O ! how 
I have needed it this cold winter ; my warm 
beaver sack? — and my pretty, point-laqe 
collar ? — that I never looked at without 
recalling the black eyes of the coquettish 
girl who sold it me in Montreal ! 



THE CANAL STREET PAWN SHOP. 203 

" Forewarned, forearmed." I had an idea 
that * Cops " could see right through a mill- 
stone ; so was mighty careful to trip by him 
airy and indifferent, specially to the package 
dangling by its strong string from my finger. 

I didn't stop to ask the way to Canal 
Street. No. I crossed over to a good look- 
ing darkey— sunning himself and a cheap 
cigar on the sidewalk — and inquired. 

What was the matter ? didn't anybody 
ever before carry a thick, brown, paper par- 
cel through Canal Street? 

The fellow had one of his African eyes 
on it all the time he was pointing out the 
way! 

I'm near-sighted ; where am I? O ! here 
it is ; the very place. Underground shop ; 
yes — door, part wood ; top, glass ; all the 
panes excepting one, painted white to screen 
the customers ; and that shows up in black 
letters, " Money to Loan ! — on Diamonds 
— Watches — Pianos." 



204 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. * 

But I have not got any " Pianos — Watches 
— Diamonds : " what to do ? I stand irres- 
olute. 

A small, sharp-eyed man spied me, and 
hurrying up said, " What can we do for you 
marm, this morning ? " — all the while tak- 
ing in the dimensions of my budget; and 
I will wager my sapphire ring, now in the 

hands of Mr. A as security, that he 

knew exactly what was inside, and had 
already made up his mind precisely how 
much to advance on the lot ! 

Hiding my confusion, I gave elaborate 
reasons for troubling so courteous a gentle- 
man as himself, with the trifling affair. But, 
with many apologies, " the fact was — I 
wished to surprise a friend with a gift — and 
being just a little short of funds — and 
having read his advertisement in the " Her- 
ald " — I had taken the liberty to bring with 
me a few things ; which, if he would be so 
obliging as to examine— and could be so 



THE CANAL STREET PA WN SHOP. 



205 



kind as to give me some money upon — I 
should esteem it a very great favor — and 
would throw all the custom in his way I 
possibly could — ever after." 

" O ! with pleasure, marm." Should he 
look at them ? 

I wonder the " things " were not turned 
into salt by the abominable lie I had manu- 
factured ; for, if he hadrit taken them, my 
" friend " would not have lost a gift, but I 
should have gone supperless to bed ; which, 
as I had not yet seen my dinner, " riy pen- 
sons pas J" 

" And what, marm, may you want on this 
collar?" 

" Well ! it cost me fifteen dollars ; but I 
don't suppose you will allow more than half 
that!" 

" Expect — me — to — allow — seven — 
dollars — fifty — cents — on — that ! " ex- 
claimed the Jew, holding up the strip of 
lace two inches wide, fourteen inches long. 



206 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" One dollar twenty-five cents is the very 
most ; and we do that to accommodate you, 
marm ! " 

I thought of my muff — my sable muff ; 
my sack — my beaver sack ; and groaned in 
spirit. 

The man caught the echo of the groan ; 
looked into my face ; and " set on edge " 
with desire to make money, determined to 
drive a bargain. 

All I could get out of him for the muff, 
which cost me twenty dollars, was a paltry 
two ; all for the sack, which cost me forty 
dollars, was a paltry four ; and both nearly 
new. 

But I was the gainer in one way. I had 
no " transparency " to carry through the 
street ; and I went up Broadway, with seven 
dollars twenty-five cents in my pocket, as 
lightly as though I had not got to pay, for 
the use of that bewildering amount, at the 
end of one short month, fourteen dollars 



THE CANAL STREET PAWN SHOP. 207 

and fifty cents ; besides running the risk of 
never getting back into my possession the 
aforesaid " articles." 

I went home. I had my supper ; and im- 
pulsively generous, invited Jane Matthews 
to sup with me. 

We enjoyed it. Muffs, sacks, collars do 
eat well ; and we had coffee, too. That 
upon my weak stomach, rather " set me 
up." 

We played a two-handed game of Euchre 
in which, imitating that " heathen Chinee," 
I made some " points ;" naturally enough, 
having just swallowed my point-lace collar! 

At ten we separated. At eleven I went 
to bed ; or rather threw myself on the sofa 
until my husband should come in. 

I slept. Attend 'to my dream — 

A good-sized dining-room ; carpet green 
and red ; showing up bright in the full 
blaze of the gas. Gustave always would 
turn on that, regardless of the monthly call 



208 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

of the Manhattan Gas Light Co. The ta- 
ble set out — O! so nice — with its new 
dishes ; and — I thought I saw a white cloth ? 
no — I thought I saw a great sheet of white 
paper? no — it is the " New York Herald," 
all covered over with " Money to Loan ! " 
" Money to Loan ! " in letters a yard long. 

But the fragrant odor of a well-cooked 
dinner comes stealing in at the open door ; 
through which too, enters my husband. I 
am so glad. 

The waiter sets down a large tureen 
right over the word " Money," leaving only 
" to Loan " bristling all around. 

Is the money gone, and nothing left but 
the loan ? 

I writhe in my sleep ! 

For the oysters. Gustave lifts the cover ; 
and poking about the dish, angrily screams 
to the cook, " What is this mess ? " 

"Just what mistress ordered, sir! — sea- 
soned it the best I knew how, sir! — she 



THE CANAL STREET PAWN SHOP. 2O9 

would have muff for dinner, with oyster 
sauce." 

"Yes — Gustave! my muff; they fare 
worse in Paris ; eat away. It will digest 
quicker and much easier than my piano ; 
that was rosewood; and you are used to 
logwood, you know! Pass me the end of 
that tassel, please, with a good deal of the 
gravy ! Have some coffee ? " 

" Yes — milk it well ; I will sugar myself. 
Are you crazy ? Here 's half your collar in 
the bottom of my cup, and the other half in 
my throat. Who told you, Bridget, to set- 
tle your coffee with lace collars ? " 

" Nobody, sir ! mistress said fry it for 
breakfast ; but as I looked at you, coming 
up the steps, sir, I thought may be, you 
would like it better soaked'' 

" You and your mistress go to hell ! The 
next thing, we shall have her sack served 
up. for dinner." 

" To-morrow, sir ! Got it roasting now ; it 



2 1 AH * UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

is awful tough ; won't be done clear through 
before your next meal. What kind of veg- 
etables? — whiskey, or point-lace? — Sir!" 

"My whiskey is point-lace, muff, beaver 
sack ; but it is not (or you to fling it at me ; 
take that — you officious fool ! " bawled 
Gustave ; hurling tureen, muff, and all, after 
the flying cook. 

I awoke with a start — 

There was the green and red carpet, with 
the gas turned on to its full extent. 

There sat Gustave with those three pawn 
tickets, that had fallen from my pocket, in 
one hand ; and a boot, he had just pulled 
off to send after the first, in the other. 

Tears were in his eyes. Conscience was 
at work. 

I thought it no more than fair it should 
work, though the leaven of it rose him high 
as " Hainan's gallows ; " as — but for his 
impoverishing dissipation — I should now 
have round me, my widely scattered com 
forts. 



THE CANAL STREET PA WN SHOP, 2 I I 

My dream shadowed the truth. 

The demon, Drink, pollutes everything 
it touches ! 

The demon, Drink, destroys everything 
that crosses its path ! 

The demon, Drink, inaugurates a series 
of " dissolving views " startling to the gen- 
erally accepted, cohesive habits of " house- 
hold gods ! " 

While it is a law of Nature, that the less 
shall precede the greater ; it is a law of this 
Monster, that the "greater" shall precede 
the " less." 

The grand piano, that once occupied the 
whole side of a handsome room, has dwin- 
dled to a printed slip, my finger can cover, 
labeled — M Loan Ticket No. 1009 " — 
somewhat retrieving its /^significance, in 
size ; by its j/gnificance, in import. 

Verily, the Greater hath preceded the 
Less ; substituting Discord for Harmony, 
in its unnatural priority ! 



212 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Tokens, endeared by associations and 
years of possession, are gobbled up by 
" The Insatiable ; " that spews out of his 
foul mouth in return, strips of yellow paper, 
all looking one way. 

Bah ! I could paste " Tammany Hall ' 
from floor to ceiling, with the hateful 
color ! 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 

"By cheerful wit and graphic tale, refreshing the harassed 
spirit." 

" Vive ! " New York ! Down with Brook- 
lyn! 

This has not always been my war-cry. 
Time was, I sympathized with the " City of 
Churches." 

But, let me tell. — 

The boarding-house, and every other 
scheme, having signally failed, thereby sink- 
ing my entire means; nothing less than 
starvation, staring me directly in the face, 
could have induced my next step. 

Pitying Shade ! Guardian Angel ! wast 
thou asleep, when I answered the above 
" want ? " 



214 AN A UTOBlOGRAPffY. 

To break myself in, make myself " au 
fait" to the business; I selected Brooklyn 
as the place ; and a mongrel affair, half re- 
ceipts — half advertisements — as the base 
of, operation. 

Already I emulated the maid of " green 
gown " memory ; and my eggs had bought, 
only she knew, how much. 

Brooklyn was to hatch the chickens ! 

So, decked in borrowed plumage, a black 
lace shawl carelessly thrown over me for 
effect, hopes high, anticipations brilliant, to 
Brooklvn I went! 

To be explicit — 

My commission upon each number sold 
was to be ten cents. 

" En passant? 'the publisher had secured 
the lion's share, and had taken his pay in 
advance. 

Behold me ! a novice ! and raw at that ; 
with twenty-five pamphlets that had fallen 
dead from the press, as my only capital, save 
— my tongue. 



BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 215 

I used that freely ; and did more talking 
over those money-saving receipts, and self- 
sacrificing advertisements, than would have 
set up the entire New York Bar, in a first- 
class practice ! 

Either, all " heads of families " in Brook- 
lyn were " petrified," " a la Cardiff giant ; ' 
or, servants had received strict orders to 
admit no vagrants. 

Only two American faces greeted my vis- 
ion that blessed day. 

However, perseverance wins ; and by 
dint of my sweetest smiles ; my extremest 
politeness ; my shawl poetically arranged ; 
I did sell, through the agency of these same 
servants, six of my precious load. 

Sixty cents clear gain. Fifteen cents to 
be deducted for car fare. 

I indulged in no dinner ; made that out 
of my New York landlady at night. 

For three days, I continued thus. The 
miles of streets I walked ; the acres of steps 



2 1 6 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I ascended : then — following the example 
of the 

" King of France, with forty thousand men " — 

descended ; are they not forever memorial 
ized in my failing limbs ? 

Brooklyn ! adieu ! I shake thy dust off 
my feet ! 

From thy sympathetic, Ferry-begirt area, 
I bore an exact profit of one dollar and 
twenty-eight cents; and — an experience. 

But, turning, the El Dorado of the 
" agent " meets my longing gaze. 

Dirty! Noisy! Splendid! — New York! 
I salute you i 

No more worthless pamphlets. A gen- 
uine book, could alone satisfy my aspira- 
tions. 

What should it be ? 

Up and down the columns of the " New 
York Herald " mine eyes roved in eager 
search. 



BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 2l*J 

" Book Agents wanted ! " met me at every 
turn. 

At length I hit upon just the thing. Vol- 
ume nice ; author well known ; profit good. 

With unquestioning faith, I entered the 
arena as "agent " for that work. 

Recalling the past, I eschewed dwellings. 
Most women prefer ribbon to literature, 
when it comes to actually paying for the 
same. 

I looked solely to places where men 
" most do congregate," for patronage. 

Pride, sensitiveness and — yes — delicacy 
too, must go by the board, if success is the 
goal, in this calling. 

It won't do, to offer a book worth the 
money, and receive your dollar with the air 
of a beggar soliciting alms ! 

It won't do, to walk Broadway an hour 
before you can muster courage to offer your 
book at all ! / know. 

It won't do, to feel put down because 



2 1 8 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

you chance to be the nineteenth, who has 
offered to sell, in that very place, that very 
day, before dinner ! 

No. Boldly approach, and assume to 
confer a favor. 

Come straight from your home to your 
customer. 

Bless you ! it is the nineteenth woman 
who makes the trade. 

What matter, if they can buy to better 
advantage elsewhere ? make them buy of 
you, 

I am not " strong minded ; " but I pity the 
men of nowadays. Alongside the women, 
their chance is slim ! 

" Bloody Mary " is said to have re- 
marked, " that in death, ' Calais ' would be 
found printed upon her heart ! "• 

Not " Calais," but " Mexico," is imprinted 
in letters of fire upon my heart, and head 
too! 



BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 219 

Every nerve, of an exhausted vitality, re- 
sponds to the assertion that she is indeed, 
our " Sister Republic." 

Had I roamed the " Halls of the Monte- 
zumas " republican at heart ; and — immor- 
tal as the " Wandering Jew " — walked down 
the Years, to that freed land of to-day; I 
could not more persistently have laid before 
New York and Boston, this ephemeral fact. 

Facing wind and weather ; bearing 

" A Banner with this strange device," 

I passed on. 

I went into " Wall " Street with awe ; 
into "Broad" Street with hope. 

Had not the fascination of the female ele- 
ment, thrown its charm and romance over 
the " bread and butter business " of " stock 
brokerage ? " 

I drew near. — 

Directly before me, in large letters upon 
the door, was this notice : 

"beggars and peddlers not admitted." 



2 20 AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Meekly I slipped in ; passed a long row 
of industrious clerks; and entered — the 
" Sanctum." 

The " Presidential Candidate " was flit- 
ting about, gracefully button-holing a very 
good looking — I wonder who it could be ? 
— brother financier. 

The soliciting partner, at lady-like ease, 
was softly humming, 

"Will you walk into my parlor ? 
Said the spider to the fly." 

Seizing a favorable opportunity, I spoke 
to them of my errand. 

" Madame ! responded the ' Candidate/ if 
1 General Grant ' and the ' Angel Gabriel 
indorsed your book, we should not invest 
in ' Mexico ! " 

Subsiding into my normal condition of 
" a worm of the dust," I crawled away. 

But I came from the " Grand Opera 
House," proud to show upon my subscrip- 



BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 221 

tion page the name of New York's, public- 
spirited, magnificent, " un bon vivantr 

I came from " Bunker Hill," glorying in 
names whose fathers fought, bled, and died, 
for Liberty ! 

Not having " nine children and one at 
the breast/' I was thrown upon the bare 
merits of the work ; and I am free to say, 
those merits have never failed me. 

I have had the pleasure and the honor, 
of introducing Colonel Albert S. Evans' 
reliable, and very readable, production into 
many of our first families. 

Excuse my laughing ! It is at this recol- 
lection. 

In Boston there dwells a bachelor ; very 
rich, and — I will be charitable — very 
close. 

Still, he had known me " egg and bird," 
and I was sure of my man. 

Confidently presenting to him my " Mex 
ican " claim, he patronizingly patted me on 
the shoulder, his face all of a yard long, 



222 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and informed me, in sepulchral tones, that 
he had just lost fifty thousand dollars ; that 
he would be happy to buy some other day ! 

" Mexico " was at a discount ; her bud- 
ding hopes crushed out of sight by the 
magnitude of this loss, which I consider- 
ately gave him four months to recover. 

The breezy, exhilarating zephyrs of 
March wafted me again in that direction. 

His face drawn to precisely the same 
angle ; his shoulder pats precisely as sym- 
pathetic ; his voice precisely as hollow ; he 
said he was now arranging his business, and 
urged me to come by and by ! 

Reckoning by years, it is time that man's 
affairs were settled. 

Reckoning by money, it is time that man 
was bled to the tune of one subscription 
book, at least. 

Imitating the euphonious harmony of the 
primer rhyme 

" Zaccheus he 
Did climb a tree " — 



BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 223 

I announce to thee, bachelor mine — 



" I shall call 
In the fall." 

But as to the Biblical student there would 
be keen, though perhaps obscure, satire, in 
the transposition of the lines ; 

" In the Fall 
I shall call." 

How this avocation sharpens the wits ! 

As to the human countenance, it becomes 
so transparent that an "agent" must be 
stupid indeed who cannot read as he runs. 

What variety too, in manner ! 

Some, kind and generous ; others, polite 
and mean ; some, indifferent and morose ; 
and others, downright rude, with curses not 
" loud but deep," speed you on your way. 

Seeking the first; shunning the last; I 
have been brought mostly into contact with 
the agreeable. 

My Mexico's fair list, boasts names " men 
delight to honor ; " as well as those of per- 



224 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

sonal friends to the distinguished party, wh 
made the " Gala Trip" through her gor 
geous Tropics ! 

Fellow-laborer, in this inviting field, look 
to thyself! " Be ye wise as a serpent, harm- 
less as a dove." 

Fellow-laborer, gird thyself! Names of 
note have preceded thee. May not Paul, 
Apostle to the Gentiles, in his earlier years, 
have been engaged in this business? 

Does not his assertion, that he was all 
things to all men, hoping thereby to gain 
some, smack of an experience evolved as an 
" Agent ? " At all events, the whole secret 
of success is inclosed in this very nutshell, 
" all things to all men." In these days, the 
chances are you will thereby gain the lot. 

I know one — young and handsome ; 
who, by close observance of this rule, made 
his " pile " out of a last year's almanac ; 
better still; out of a pamphlet far more un- 



BOOK AGENTS WANTED. 225 

interesting and passe than any modern al- 
manac ; for, under the able generalship of a 
well-known humorist, " Allmanax " are tak- 
ing a lead in literature ! 

I know another — of education and ad- 
dress ; who failed to earn his salt, though 
showing a work indorsed by the first in the 
land, through lack of the " Chameleon " in 
his nature. 

But I know a woman — long may she 
wave ! — who, to unprecedented tact in 
swelling a subscription list, unites consum- 
mate shrewdness in making herself good 
against possible loss; thus eminently com- 
bining the two essential points, of " raising 
the wind," and when " raised," of appropri- 
ating the same : the capacity to do which, 
in a more enlarged sphere, would place her 
Ci bull," or " bear," in the front rank, as a 
Wall Street financier! 

I declare ; was I myself to start a sub- 
scription book, and that person applied to 
15 



226 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

me for a chance, such is my admiration 
of her -as a " success," that notwithstand- 
ing a certain looseness respecting " meum 
et tuum," I would appoint her canvasser 
in-chief over any district she might desire. 
" Sauve qui pent? 



CHAPTER XXXV. 



THE " HUB." 



" There always shall be one to bless ; for I am on thy side/' 

In New York I was comparatively a 
stranger ; but they " did not take me in," 
either figuratively or literally. 

Only the Omnipotent can reckon the 
prayers that silently go up, on " the wings 
of the morning," from the streets of that 
gay metropolis for help ; for material aid ; 
which can that day, only be realized by 
Heaven itself! 

My last book was sold. 

At the end of five months, I too, fell into 
the ranks of the great multitude who throng 
her streets with burdened hearts; and — 
nothing to do. 



228 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Per necessity I returned to Boston ; in- 
debted a second time, to the kindness of a 
friend, for a " free pass." 

There I was well known ; and sure at 
least of one acquaintance within her classic 
limits, who would not suffer me to starve. 

I was now, sole and undisputed owner of 
a purple and black, striped gown (how 
glad I am I was persuaded six years ago 
at Jordan & Marsh's into buying it; a 
firmer piece of goods was never thrown 
upon Boston Market). 

I was now, sole and undisputed owner of 
a " water-proof " (more ancient, equally abid- 
ing)- 

And — my reputation ! 

Financially, this was bad. But morally 
— here I made a stand. 

When I leave the Metropolitan city; 
come on " via " Springfield ; and get out at 
the Boston and Albany depot; the order 



THE "HUB." 229 

and cleanliness before me, is in grateful 
contrast to the confusion and filth I have 
left behind. 

Quietness reigns. The sky is blue. The 
air pure; and bracing — with the ther- 
mometer at zero, and a stiff gale from the 
Northwest ! 

I set my feet upon historic soil. 

Abode too of the fine arts ; nowhere be- 
side so critically appreciated. 

Mecca of genius ! Centre of triumphs ! 
climaxed by the " Peace Jubilee." 

Athenians of America! justly art thou 
proud of thine Athens, creation's Hub ! 

Are my proclivities downward? Am I 
of the "earth, earthy?" Do I fraternize 
with dirt? 

If, after this, I own right up, and say, 
" Give me New York for better or for 
worse;" all Boston will howl back in the 
affirmative. 

But listen — 



230 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Once more at home, where the greater 
part of my life had been spent, my heart 
swelled with gratitude that I was again one 
of thy citizens ; O, Puritanical city of Bos- 
ton ! 

To be sure, within thy walls I had waded 
through seas of sorrow ; but, let the " Past 
bury its own dead." 

I hoped to commence life anew. 



I have a cousin who, in the course of his 
half century life, has brought forth two orig- 
inal remarks. 

One, I have already given ; the other, de- 
clared poverty to be an unmitigated curse ! 

I protested. In the first place, the dear 
companionship of friends would alleviate 
the evil; in the second place, education 
would rob it of its sting ; in the third place, 
one's own consciousness of talent and 
mother wit, would come to the rescue ; 



THE "HUB." 



231 



in the fourth place, the world owed every- 
body a living ; which everybody was a fool 
if he did not get. 

The reticence of my cousin was his chief 
virtue. That was good for the brief re- 
sponse, " Try it ! " 

Years have elapsed. I have tried it ; and 
am prepared to say — the wisdom of the 
godlike Socrates ; the sage Plato ; the prac- 
tical Confucius — pale before the transcend- 
ent utterance of that man ! 

Not to discuss the question of what the 
world really owes ; it is stereotyped, that it 
is a mighty hard thing now-a-days to make 
her pay her just debts. 

Talent, I hold to be terribly in the way, 
unless it has a wider field than poverty can 
afford, in which to follow its bent, and — 
operate. 

What you are pleased to consider your 
" mother wit," be very careful not to venti- 
late, unless you are tolerably situated in a 
worldly point of view. 



232 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

You can neither say, nor do, a smart 
thing in reduced circumstances. 

How dare you expect your talent, or 
your wit to be appreciated, if you have 
lost your money? " Qui per de pec he" 

Poor unfortunate ! " be not deceived ; " 
the people " are not mocked ; " whatever 
your own conception of ability, others will 
not recognize it, unless set in gold ! 

As to education to while the hours of 
poverty — : — well ! this is a delicate ques- 
tion ; but, at the risk of offending the scho- 
lastic, I reiterate ; that the most important 
branch of knowledge, next " Our Lord's 
Prayer," to be instilled — at least into the 
youthful, female mind — is the complex art 
of modern cookery ! 

Then, a certain livelihood is secured ; no 
thanks to " Belles-lettres " or mathematics ! 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE RECEPTION. 

"Going forth gayly in the morning to woo the world with 
smiles." 

" Is met by those way-faring men with coldness, suspicion, and 
repulse." 

But the dear companionship of friends ? 

— there I have you ! 

" Thou fool ! " dost thou not know, that 

— in poverty — thy friendships are a myth! 
Take a walk down Washington Street 

any fine day, and learn for yourself. 

Before you reach the " Old South " the 
fact will be patent. 

It was patented to me on this wise — 
Entering a leading store in that fashion- 
able locality, I was received as a stranger 



234 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



No. Strangers are entitled to courtesy. I 
was met, as would be the foul scum of so- 
ciety, for daring to float in that debarred 
direction; and yet, in the by-gone days, 
many is the time I have tripped on " light 
fantastic toe " to the merry music of " Fish- 
er's Hornpipe," with the very person who 
thus ignored me ! 

Amid all my humiliations it was the first 
time, but by no means the last, that I had 
been so strangely regarded ; and as the 
final "feather to the camel's back," that 
completely broke me down. I passed the 
remainder of the day in tears. 

I would not shed so many again, though 
all my quondam acquaintance should rise 
" en masse? to crush me back into my orig- 
inal elements. Not much ! 

And another — in whose veins every 
drop of blood flowing, is as mine — but let 
him pass ! I fancy upon the occasion of that 
well improved opportunity, he who readeth 



THE RECEPTION. 235 

can understand, with the heart searching- 
glare of my wrathful eyes, I managed to 
avenge, myself — and scorch him ! 

And another — who, in the far-off hours 
of girlish intimacy, had so entwined herself 
around my heart-strings, that every memory 
of those happiest times but flash before me 
her laughing face, looked coldly ; nay 
worse ; believed me capable of winking at 
deeds, the abhorred conception of which 
caused my very soul to shudder! 

My reputation ! the conviction was forced 
upon me ; an enemy had surely tampered 
with that. I know — 

" A look may work thy ruin, or a word create thy wealth " — 

but could so foul a slander have arisen from 
this ? 

While absent, I kept house four weeks. 
During that time two disreputable individ- 
uals contrived to insinuate themselves into 
my good graces ; and through ignorance of 
their style, become inmates of the family. 



236 . AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Ascertaining the truth, they had but 
short notice to leave. 

The odium of this affair, trifling as it 
was, so thoroughly disturbed me ; that I 
immediately sacrificed every advantage, and 
gave up my new home. 

In my great need ; and though perse- 
cuted, as it were, for very righteousness' 
sake ; many believed in good faith that, in 
the city of New York, I was the prosperous 
mistress of a — house of ill fame ! 

Believed ; that the innocent girl ; the 
close student ; the happy wife ; the desolate 
widow ; the wretched victim of another's in- 
temperance ; could be so lost to herself, to 
her friends, to her God ; as to countenance 
a life, the "steps to which take hold on 
hell ! " 

But one, raised his voice in my behalf. 

But one, contradicted the vile aspersion. 

On my bended knees have I returned 
thanks to the All Powerful for raising me 



THE RECEPTION. 237 

up the "one" friend, in that, my direst 
need. 

No longer do I wonder, that despairing 
kinsfolk so often seek to recognize their 
dead at the gloomy Morgue ! 

And the other; would I could give his 
name ! who, in mercy, saved me from that 
last, sad resting-place. 

With words of sympathy ; offers of aid ; 
he brought me back to hope ; and his per- 
sistent, Christian kindness — 

Held me back — from appearing unsum- 
moned, before the " Unknown!" 

Held me back — from the unblest future 
of the deliberate " Suicide ! " 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 
" our lord's prayer." 

M Our Father who art in heaven, 

Hallowed be thy name. 

Thy kingdom come. 
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. 

Give us this day our daily bread. 
And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass 

against us. 
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil j 
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, 
And the glory — forever — Amen." 

M Now I lay me down to sleep ; 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep. 

If I should die before I wake — 
I pray the Lord my soul to take." 

It is past ! 

Day is softly fading in the west. Night 
is gently coming to the earth. 

I sit in my quiet room ; and Memory, 



"OUR LORD'S PRAYER" 239 

forgetful of my blessings; faithful to but 
half her mission ; spreads out before me the 
loss of my youth, my ambition, my property, 
my reputation ! 

Serenely I consider this absence of all the 
world calls good. 

From the bitter ashes of earthly disap- 
pointment has arisen upon my vision, the 
heavenly Star of Hope ! 

I lift mine eyes — 

They fall upon my youthful husband; 
the man to whom, before angels and men, 
I have sworn to be true. 

"Clothed, and in his right mind," he is 
sitting by my side. 

He is making an honest effort to reform. 

He is engaged in useful labor. 

Curses, are exchanged for prayers ; blows, 
for loving words ; prodigality, for Christian 
economy. 

And — as he falls upon his knees before 
me — humbly, and with tears, imploring my 



24O AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 

forgiveness for the great wrong he has 
done ; the words, " Forgive us our trespasses, 
as we forgive those who trespass against 
us ; " burn in letters of fire upon the wall ; 
and I know it would be at the peril of my 
soul, to refuse. 

He, forgiven, will cover a multitude 01 
my sins ! 

Here, I have had tribulation ! 

Hereafter, face to face with the Absolute, 
I shall have compensation ! 

•'At even time it will be light" 



THE END. 



